Scavengers
by zipscool
Summary: Sign-up collab between Wandering Letters and I. The world is devastated by the T-Virus and humanity flees the mainland, settling down on various islands. The only ones who dare brave the horrors on former continents are those referred to as 'Scavengers' bringing vital supplies to the remnants of humanity. This is the story of one such team; the legend of Scavenger Four.
1. The World as we Know It

**Greetings travellers and thanks for reading this collaborative effort between Wandering Letters and myself (with thanks to our mutual fan and friend Jen Jen Yuki for instigating this particular brand of anarchy). I won't bore you with talk about mine and Mr. Letters' respective stories that led to a certain individual believing this would be possible; instead I'll say that, hopefully, if you liked either The Pelanoi Accounts or Finding The Haven then you'll find something to like in this as well.**

**Cheerio from both myself and Wandering Letters and, without much further ado, the first chapter of the story, contributed by Letters himself.**

**Scavengers**

**Chapter One – The World as we Know It**

**Diary Log #1: Nicholas Wilson**  
Diary Entry #8  
_August 20th 2013_

It's been about a year since the biological bombing across the globe. The majority of what's left of humanity has fled to a group of islands towards the Western Hemisphere in an attempt to escape the T-Virus outbreak. I was still very surprised that despite the efforts of the BSAA to stop Neo Umbrella and bio-terrorists, the world has still reached the stage that everyone wished to avoid.

Life is difficult in these harsh times where resources were limited and I knew I had to do as much as I could for my family here. I decided to pick up a job on the trade vessel that travels all over the archipelago in order to take better care of my mother and older sister. I had to say it wasn't going half bad for us either but my mother was in an accident a few months ago which fractured her right leg. I really didn't want her moving around but her maternal instincts just spat in the face of logic. At least I have Lisa to watch out for her whenever I was gone on trips with my best friend Oliver.

Oliver's probably one of the only reasons why I can still keep my sanity; he came out of nowhere as if God himself was answering my need for someone besides my mother and sister. We started working on the vessel about eight months ago and were best friends from day one when he helped me with my loads. It's pretty damn tiring to have to load heavy shit all day but with him around, it's a heck of a lot more managable. Oliver unfortunately keeps trying to corrupt me with alcohol and women though it was mostly humorous to see his attempts. It's not that I'm not looking for love, it's that the one hasn't shown up yet and to be honest, I don't think there's much left after the T-Virus wiped out so much of humanity. Still... maybe there is someone out there…

Anyway, Oliver and I have a meeting in an hour about that Scavenger team that just came in from a trip at our usual spot by the docks.

Nick.  
  
**-X-**

**One Hour Later**

**Nick**

"Had a good sleep mate?" asked Oliver.

I nodded at him as I took a seat on a crate beside him.

"Scavenger Team just came in this morning from Canary," said Oliver.

"Really? Haven't been there since we pulled our boat in for repairs," I said.

"You know the score; our humble little vessel usually does the side jobs to all the other less fortunate islands," said Oliver, as if it were obvious.

"You have a point there mate," I said as I stretched my arms.

"You know they've requested to use our vessel to head back to Canary?" he asked.

"Yeah, Calvin told me about it a few hours ago," I said.

"Gonna join in?" he asked again.

"Yeah; I'm sure it'll be good to get a job to do for the capital; should mean the pay's a heck of a lot better," I replied.

Oliver nodded and took a gulp of his Samuel Adams Beer.

"What would you think of officially joining a Scavenger team?" I asked.

He was silent for a few seconds and took another gulp.

"I wouldn't mind being able to help out with things more than what we're doing now because it doesn't feel like we're making as big an impact as we possibly can…" he said measuredly, "but then I've heard it's brutal just getting accepted into their ranks, never mind actually getting on a team."

"Since when has something like that ever stopped us?" I said with an easy laugh as I gave him a brotherly smack to the arm and held it there.

Oliver chuckled.

"So you think we should go tell the captain down there?" I asked as I pointed at the man who was directing things to unload.

"Sounds like a plan mate," replied Oliver.

We rose to our feet and began to make our way to the vessel. Oliver paused for a moment and a very wicked smile appeared on his face. I suddenly heard some beautiful music from a wind instrument.

"Well now if it isn't your secret admirer," Oliver teased.

He pointed over to a pier and to my surprise, I saw an absolutely gorgeous girl holding what seemed to be an ocarina and playing it with immense skill. Her eyes were closed and I took a moment to absorb her features.

She had very long raven hair with subtle light brown highlights that was kept in a ponytail. She had a slender and curvy build but not like a supermodel's almost perfect figure but it suited her size well and her skin was a shade of brown just slightly higher than being pale brown. She was wearing a pair of shorts but not short enough to really show off her curves and a black tanktop. She had a jacket tied around her waist and the only reason I could fathom that she wasn't wearing it was because today was quite a hot day.

"You look like you saw an angel mate," said Oliver with a chuckle.

"This must be the Asian girl mom was talking about... how the hell have I never seen her before?" I asked.

"Because when you're working you enter tunnel vision," said Oliver.

I rolled my eyes as Oliver playfully gave me a noogie.

"I have no time for love... my family comes first," I said.

"Oh don't gimme that shit! You know it'd make your mother a completely different level of happy if you brought a girl like that home," he said.

I sighed deeply.

"You two kids gonna stand there and block the way or do you have business here?" asked a masculine voice.

I turned around to see the captain of the Scavenger team

"Oh sorry sir" I apologised, "we work on this vessel and we just caught wind of the request to head to Canary. That you?" I asked. The burly Scavenger captain nodded, then perked up as his head

"Ahh so you're the two kids Mr. Antoine was talking about, Nick and Oliver is it?" he asked.

I nodded in unison with Oliver.

"Splendid! Everyone is here...though we're in need of a cook at the moment because the trek to Canary Capital is a good ten hours and the other cook had an accident and fell off the ship," he said.  
"Did you say you needed a cook?" asked a female voice.

I turned to see the same girl who was playing the ocarina, now with her jacket on.

"I can be the cook sir," she said.

Her voice had a slight Japanese accent but not enough to taint the English she spoke with obscurity.

"Thank you my dear! Everyone aboard because we're heading off soon," said the captain.

I quickly boarded the ship, trying hard to avoid the girl's gaze.

"Where are your manners mate? Introduce yourself!" Oliver demanded; his amusement all too obvious.

I turned around to face the two of them.

"Sorry... kind of shy," I said looking down and scratching my head.

I held out a hand.

"Nicholas Wilson," I said.

"Nicole Prester," she replied.

She shook my hand and gave me a shy smile. At that moment I realized she had violet eyes, a very uncommon eye color these days.

"I guess we better get settled in... long trip ahead of us," said Oliver.

I glanced awkwardly to Nicole before we boarded the ship together.

**-X-**

**And there is the first chapter folks. Sign-up is standard procedure if you've read mine and Wandering Letters' stories, with a max of two unique skills allowed, no ridiculous weapons allowed and no 'Ace' characters. Added to the character creation list however is your character's Beliefs. Is s/he a Christian? Hindu? Atheist? Are they Social Darwinists or do they believe everyone should have an equal chance at life even in a world as cruel as the world they live in now?**

**Leave a comment, but be aware that this is a shared effort, so don't forget about Wandering Letters; he brought the very first chapter to you after all.**


	2. Days

**Holy shit that RE6 Gamescom footage of Jake and Sherry. Was that character development I saw Capcom? In a Resident Evil game? Maybe your writers are upping their game after all (pun intended).**

**Scavengers  
Chapter Two: Days**

**Diary Log #2: Oliver Faraday**

Diary Entry #1

_August 20__th__ 2013_

_First entry in my very own journal… see Nick fiddling around with one of these things every now and then so I thought I'd get one before we cast off and see what the fuss is about. So far I'm not feeling anything. Maybe there's a trick to these things..._

_Oh well, story-time's over and we've all decided to retire for the night. Hope the sailor driving this thing doesn't fall asleep like he did a month ago._

_Still feels strange putting my 'name' down, hell I almost spelt out my original name when I started. I should've chosen a different alias when I left that place behind, one that didn't start with the same letter. Lack of foresight on my part, or maybe I wanted something that sounded even slightly familiar in a place where so much was... well, unfamiliar. Whatever it was it's what I'm stuck with now until the day I die. I'm thinking peacefully and in my sleep, though that itch in the back of my skull is telling me it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens. __Besides, in all honestly, with all the things I did, even in spite of the fact I was a defenceless kid – no, __**fuck **__that noise I was far from defenceless and I knew it, I was just afraid. Afraid of him and afraid that they'd kill_

_Nick talked about trying out for the Scavenger teams once we get to the Canaries… I gave him a kind of 'maybe' answer. I wanted to say no but then I saw that look in his eye. The one he gets whenever he talks about people leaving the island and retaking the mainland, rebuilding until it's like this whole mess never happened. _

_I don't want to tell him I don't think it'll ever happen._

_Scavengers (and I find it hilarious how a word with such negative connotations can be so revered) are just as the title describes; they scavenge, they hunt, and they bring back the goods that help keep us as a species alive and well off… well alive anyway. These brave and insane men and women are raised up as living legends to what remains of us, and believe me the benefits you get aside from the prestige made me actually think about it if only for the extra rations._

_Then I remember that they go to the mainland, and I don't want to go back there. Not ever again. _

_Too many bad memories._

_And speaking (or writing) of bad memories; the dreams are getting worse each night. Tried pills but that made them unbearable. I don't have a problem with nightmares, I made peace with them a long time ago but these episodes, these… visions, I don't know what else I can really call them… they scare me. Nine times out of ten I can barely remember what I saw or what I think I saw but that tenth time? I saw my brother in the most recent one. Alive. I think I might see him soon._

_I think he's going to kill me._

_Omega __ Oliver_

**-X-**

**Oliver**

I helped the other two guys load the crate on board, waiting for the lift to take it down into the cargo hold. The Scavenger Captain; Warner, was a guy who looked like he wrestled crocodiles while chewing down bear steaks with his massive build, shaven head and his usually hard-line expression. The makeshift combat gear he wore constantly only added to the overall intimidation factor.

His compatriots were a more mixed bunch, though of the four of them, two possessed an annoying habit of wearing their gas-masks near constantly. Last I checked guys; the T-Virus wasn't airborne, so unless you think the dead are going to start throwing nerve gas at you then you're good. Other than that though they seemed like decent folk, not all that different to anyone you'd meet walking down the street really.

That said, each and every one of them seems to be packing a pair of brass ones. Maybe they're standard issue when you sign up.

I feigned a back ache as the others rubbed their arms and stretched, bemoaning the weight of the box we'd just delivered. Honestly I could have carried it all the way around the island if I had to but it paid to blend in these days. It had taken about two hours, almost $300 and a number of fresh fish (checked for infection and deemed clean of course) but apparently they managed to get whatever it was the Scavengers had asked for. I didn't ask. Asking wasn't in the job description; I just helped prepare goods with Antoine and haggled with difficult customers for better (read: unfairer) prices. I didn't like it but it was what I did, and I was told occasionally that I was pretty good at it.

I saw Nick haul aboard another crate with a couple other loaders. Looked like canned goods but I couldn't be sure. With nothing else to do, what with Antoine checking his profits in his cabin, I decided I'd go say hi.

"Hey Nick," I said with an amiable wave, he waved back.

"Hey," he replied, "What's up?"

"Nothing much mate, nothing to do now."

"Lucky you," Nick muttered sarcastically, propping an elbow on top of the crate and leaning against it casually. I glanced around, searching.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"A certain secret admirer… or not so secret since I told you about her I guess," Nick sighed.

"Look man, I appreciate it and she seems like a really sweet girl but I don't think I've got the luxury."

"Why not?"

"Because my family–"

"Here it comes oh world! Family this, family that. I love you like a brother mate but sometimes I think God messed up your wiring when he made you."

"Just because I don't think about–" his face reddened, and suddenly a very malicious thought appeared in my head. I felt a diabolical grin split my face as I leaned in towards him.

"I was just joking but you really don't have any kind of desires do you?" I asked, my grin never faltering.

"I have desires. I want–"

"You know exactlywhat I mean when I say _desires_," I said, wiggling my eyebrows in emphasis.

Nick's discomfort has always been a great source of amusement for me (and if anyone else saw him right now they'd be inclined to agree that he's hilarious when he's embarrassed; appearing quite literally tomato red).

Disappointingly however, he didn't give me a reply. He simply stalked off after the other loaders to help bring more supplies and goods on board the trader vessel. I gave a bark of laughter anyway, just to send him off before giving him a friendly 'see you later' wave and descending into the decks to find either something to do or someone to talk to. In about an hour he'd get over the teasing – he always did – and later when we helped ourselves to our alcohol rations we'd talk and laugh about it.

Maybe when we did this clenching feeling in my gut would go away.

**-X-**

"Is that how they really are?" asked one of the young crew members.

"Aye, they shamble in that very disturbing manner and, for one reason or another, have an uncanny ability to sniff out exactly where you are at all times," said Captain Warner in his gruff, uncompromising voice.

"The Hunters seem to be what everyone is really scared of though," said Oliver.

"They're fast and agile in addition to having claws as sharp as machetes," agreed Warner.

Nick shook his head and turned to his right to see Nicole. She was wrapped up in a thick brown blanket despite being in front of the glowing barrel. The crew decided to host a story night and lit a fire in an empty drum barrel out on deck. Nick was puzzled as to why Nicole was freezing in what he thought to be rather warm weather.

"Alright! Everybody to bed! We got an early morning ahead of us and a lot of unloading to do once we dock," said Warner.

Nick rose to his feet and turned to Oliver.

"Not gonna spend some time with your future wife mate?" he teased.

Nick rolled his eyes.

"She looks pretty cold and lonely over there," he said.

Nick sighed as he moved towards her.

"Thanks for cooking dinner for everyone; it was brilliant," he complimented.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said with a shy smile.

Nick looked at the blanket before looking at her.

"Anaemic I take it?" he asked.

"Yeah...sort of and I just don't like cold weather," she replied.

"That why you had that jacket on your waist this morning?" he asked.

"Yes...sometimes the sea breeze gets intense and I have to put it on," she replied.

Nick looked spaced for a few seconds, as if he were trying to find words to say.

"So tell me about yourself," he said scratching the back of his head.

She looked at him and smiled.

45 Minutes Later

She rose to her feet and he followed her towards her designated quarters, laughing softly at the conversation she was having with him.

"So tell me about your family," she said.

"What about them?" he asked.

"What's it like...having a family?" she continued.

Nick paused for a few seconds before letting out a sound half way between a laugh and a scoff.

"Now that I think about...it's a bit hard to tell because there's so much to condense," he replied.

"You love them," she said.

Nick's eyes softened.

"With all of my heart," he replied.

She looked at him and smiled despite there being an obvious blush.

"Mom told me about you...that you were always at the docks," he began.

"Oh... did she?" she said.

Her tone changed from the gentle loving one to nervous.

"It's alright though you could've said hi," he said with a chuckle.

"I was really shy...I've been there since day one when Mr. Antoine first pulled his ship in but because of my anaemia...I quit my job there," she said.

"There's no need to be shy; I'm not gonna bite you," he said with a grin.

"I can't help it if I'm shy," she said with a pout.

"Pretty girl like you? That's surprising," he said.

Nicole looked down for a seconds and smiled as she tried to hide her now crimson face.

"May I ask about your family?" he asked.

Nick immediately regretted his question when her face changed from happy to borderline depressed.

"Rough topic is it?" he asked.

"I lost my mother a year ago to lung cancer...she was a very heavy smoker and we didn't really have good enough doctors back at Sylvan so we tried to go to the mainland to get help...and my sister-" she began.

Her voice cracked.

"Remember those... dogs Captain Warner was talking about?" she asked.

He nodded.

"She... was eaten alive by three of them when we tried to escape the mainland after mom's death... she sacrificed herself to save me," she said.

He could already hear the sobs mixed with her words. He looked at her face and saw tears flowing down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry about them..." he said.

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently. She didn't seem to notice the contact as she thrust herself against his chest. He was utterly clueless of what to do at the point. She stood there for a few minutes, sobbing into his shirt as he awkwardly tried to comfort her by placing an arm around her waist and pulling her close. After those moments, she leaned off of him.

"I'm not going to let anything like that happen to you," he said with a determined tone.

She looked at him, her violet eyes scanning him for an unknown trait and she smiled.

"You really are a good man... here I thought that my sister didn't have a clue of what she was talking about," she said.

"You two were watching me the entire time? How the heck have I never noticed either of you?" he said, feigning irritation.

She laughed softly at his voice.

"You take your work a bit too seriously," she said.

They arrived at her quarters.

"Thank you Nick...for listening," she said.

"Anytime Nicky," he replied.

Nicole placed a finger on his lips.

"I prefer Nicole," she said.

He nodded awkwardly behind her finger. As she removed it, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Good night," she whispered.

She slipped into her room as Nick walked away, rubbing his cheek with a smile on his face.

**-X-**

**Oliver**

The morning brought pleasant news; nothing had tried to devour us. Yay.

I'd also witnessed the conversation between Nick and Nicole last night, and I could now say with certainty that the latter was rather good at hiding the fact that she had the hots for my friend. I'm not sure whether I was impressed or frustrated.

Still, it seemed like they'd hit it off. It was nice seeing Nick talk to people, and the fact that she was harbouring feelings for him was a bonus. When I first met him he barely spoke to anyone, usually just giving them a cold look whenever they tried initiating conversation, it was a miracle he had a job at all. Of course since then my particular brand of charm thawed that icy wall, but he's still not great around strangers, so of course it's up to his best bud to help break the ice.

I wouldn't say it's the job of the century but seeing him make friends gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. It also made me realise that if he really did run off to join the Scavengers that I'd follow him into it regardless of my own feelings, and that the chances were I'd end up taking the bite or claw meant for him. It was only right; he had a family, people who cared, that wouldn't want to lose him, whereas the only family I had (and I had my reasons to suspect they were alive) was dysfunctional in the best of circumstances, and – if my suspicions were correct – if they were on the mainland, who knew what living there would have done to their minds.

The boat swayed gently with the waves, though working on it for so long had given me and most of the crew an easy sense of balance, and it was only the Scavengers who seemed to trip and stumble every now and then. Suppose it made sense. Usually they take the express way to the mainland; which is the last remaining helicopters available to man that we've been able to keep running. Heard rumours that there are less than a hundred of those machines on the planet now, wonder how long they'll last us.

"Prepare to dock!" came the voice over the loudspeakers placed strategically around the trader vessel. I scratched my head; clearly we'd made more progress overnight than I thought we might. Good. Customers are usually easier to deal with if we're early.

A few of the crew leaving their quarters grumbled about not having had time to eat. I shared their sentiments but kept my thoughts to myself, climbing the ladder to the deck of the ship and taking position to help the process as best I could.

The process went as smoothly as you might expect, and now the crew was given shore leave for the day while Antoine and I did our thing in the business district of this island; a place the locals called Horseshoe because it was shaped like, well a horseshoe.

Captain Warner insisted that we should make all due haste but Antoine countermanded the order; something that gave Warner the right to toss him overboard then and there. He didn't, otherwise we'd have been on our merry way, but his displeasure showed on his grizzled features. I made a mental note not to cross him today.

Nick offloaded several crates with his loader buddies, which the rest of the crew plus a couple of other assistants of Antoine's, myself included, hauled them over to the business district to begin setting up shop.

I won't bore you with details of who bought what, how much I conned out of some customers with a toothy smile and some flashy words, or that one young woman who batted her eyelashes at me (who I might or might not have agreed to see later, I can't remember). I usually blanked out whenever we went to work, and praise the lord above that I did because otherwise it'd drag on like a bad suds opera. Suffice to say that I didn't really return to being truly 'me' until Antoine said the magic words: 'alright lads, we're done for today, let's get back to the ship.'

I decided that I liked this place on the walk back. It didn't seem nearly as cluttered as home did, the streets were fairly clean (in stark contrast to the rushed appearance of a number of the housing, evidently some of these buildings were more recent than others), and the setting sun cast a comforting orange glow on the buildings that seemed to blend with the setting much more.

I also decided when we got back that I'd ask Nick about his day and who he'd spent it with over a couple of bottles I bought with my pay on the way back.

At least, that was the plan.

I was now standing in front of him, plus Nicole, plus another two people; a young Hispanic woman who seemed roughly the same age as Nicole, was giving me a funny look I didn't think I liked. An older gentleman with a rough'n'tumble expression carrying a messenger bag on his back also stood with them.

I sighed heavily.

"Alright Nicky boy," I said, squaring my friend up, "so tell me about your day…"

**-X-**

**And that's the second one from me boys and girls, well, about two thirds of it anyway.**

**We have five slots out of ten filled gents and we need more if we're to get this thing **_**really**_** rolling. As of now its three males and two females, if Wandering Letters and I could get an equal number of each then that'd be ducky.**

**Cheers**


	3. Friendly Faces

**Thank you Wandering Letters for providing us with the next chapter, and by way of this some inspiration for the next chapter.**

**Scavengers**

**Chapter Three: Friendly Faces**

**Diary Log #3 Gemma Atherton**

_Diary Entry #16_

_August 21__st__ 2013 _

_I don't really know what to write down here anymore. It's difficult for me to believe that anyone will ever really read this besides me. I've not seen a single sign of life in one-hundred days, eight hours and five minutes at the time of writing and the fact that I can pin these figures down so precisely is driving me insane. I want to see someone, _anyone_ and I don't care if it's the scumbags who ran Mitternacht or Alpha or a total stranger._

_I miss them. Barely a day's gone by when I haven't thought about those two; Alpha before he went off the deep end and Omega who always seemed like he deserved so much more than what he went through._

_Have to stop now, Hunters incoming._

_(the rest of the excerpt is unintelligible scribbling, a speck of blood dots the worn paper)_

**Nick**

Oliver left to go with the traders, leaving Nicole and me to do whatever we felt like.

"So what do you wanna do?" I asked her, scratching my head nervously.

"Sightseeing I guess?" she replied.

I shrugged as we walked down the road together, looking at the different stalls and shops. It was different from back home at Sylvan; there was a lot more variety in the goods here than there was back home which was mostly seafood or things made from the ocean and all it had to offer. I was thankful that Antoine gave us money to spend; it was a long time since I've had money to myself because 85% of my paycheck goes to my family. I examined some of the clothes stalls as a jacket caught my eye. Nicole seemed to have been drawn to a stall of her own, most likely to replace the raggedy clothes she wore and the jacket she had tied around her waist. I walked up to the stall and let my hand feel the material.

It was a denim jacket on the outside but it had a hood as well. The inside felt very soft and I enjoyed how good it felt against my fingertips. The denim was black and the hood was dark grey, just the way I like it. To my right I noticed a pair of running shoes that those parkour athletes in videos would run in and to its left was a matching pair, only in white instead of black. I then looked to my left to see a small sunglasses rack with a rack of necklaces beside it.

"Hi there honey! How can I help you today?" said a voice.

I turned to see a woman with a smile on her face, dressed in clothes that looked almost new. She wasn't bad looking either but something about her tone struck a nerve in my head that I didn't like.

"Yes ma'am, what's the damage for this jacket here along with those two pairs of sneakers," I asked.

She examined the items before gazing skyward for a few seconds.

"I'll let you have everything for fifty," she said.

"Can you throw in those shades and that necklace too?" I asked.

I pointed at the pair of black surfer shades and a necklace that had my Chinese zodiac sign as its pendant.

"Sixty-five and it's all yours honey," she said.

I smiled and happily handed her the money, giving her seventy on purpose.

"Hold on while I get your change," she said.

"Did you make these yourself?" I asked.

She turned back to face me.

"The jacket and sneakers were done by me, the shades and necklace are from my uncle," she replied.  
"Keep the change and keep up the good work," I said as I took the bag full of clothes.

She looked shocked but nodded at me.

"Thank you sir...you're a very kind person," she said.

I smiled at her and put on my new shades as I walked over to Nicole's stall. I noticed two men on either side of her. She had already bought her stuff but the men blocked her exit.

"Where you going hot stuff?" said one of them.

"Leave me alone you sick pigs," said Nicole.

I walked up to them and casually shoved one of them aside as I took Nicole by the hand.

"Ready to go?" I asked.

She nodded at me but one of the men shoved me, breaking my hold on her hand and making me drop my bag and spilling its contents on the floor. I began to get angry as I quickly picked up everything and asked Nicole to hold them.

"Got a problem tough guy?" said one of the men.

His friend rejoined him after recovering from the shove I gave him earlier.

"She said leave her alone so get out of the way," I said coldly.

I was shoved again. Strike two. Nicole knew I was getting angrier by the second.

"Strike two... I'm going to ask one more time, get out of the way or I'll make you," I said.

I got my response when one of them threw a punch at me. I shifted aside, catching it with ease.

"Bad choice," I said.

I squeezed his knuckles hard, causing an audible cracking sound and forcing him to his knees in agony. His friend came at me and I released his hand to sidestep the hasty punch before I snapped my right leg up into his face, dropping him. I pivoted on my heel and lashed out with another kick at the groggy man in his stomach, sending him skidding across the floor. The second man came at me again but I easily caught his arm before giving him a hard elbow in his face before driving my knee into his stomach and finishing him with an uppercut. He crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain as the first man rose to his feet and picked up a bat.

"Stop! You're going to break everything!" shouted the shopkeeper, unable to quite keep the fear out of her voice.

I looked back at her before turning to the man and sighing. He swung the bat. Miss. Deciding I'd had enough, I grabbed his wrist and wrenched it sideways, causing him to drop the weapon. I then kicked him hard in the chest, sending him outside into the street.

"Don't come back or I'll make it permanent," I said, my voice hard as granite.

The two men scurried off, while the shopkeeper rejoiced.

"Those two have been terrorizing these streets for weeks now! I can't thank you enough," she said.

Nicole was still in awe at my display.

"Forgot to mention...I'm a 2nd decree blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do," I said with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes.

"You protect your girlfriend well young man," said the shopkeeper.

I blushed profusely at her words. Nicole put a hood over her head.

"Thank you for everything ma'am," she said gratefully.

We left the store without a further word. We were met with a few people thanking me for taking down those two goons earlier. A man and a woman walked up to me.

"Are you Nick Wilson?" asked the girl.

"Yeah that's me," I replied.

She had a very attractive Spanish accent but her body... wow. To say she was curvy was one hell of an understatement. Forget any girl they had ever seen on the beach on Sylvan Island or on the pier taking casual dips in the ocean; this girl's body made all of them look like straight lines. She had dark brown hair as straight as straight could be that ran halfway down her back. She had large doe-like eyes that had an unmistakable emerald shine. Her face was sweet and innocent, a stark contrast to the stunning body she possessed. She was unmistakably Hispanic with her tan skin and dark hair.

"Heard you just took the two biggest bullies this side of the district and if I'm not mistaken, you're one of Antoine's crew aren't ya?" said her male companion.

"We're both on his crew," I said as I gestured to Nicole.

The girl held out a hand to me.

"Zamora Delgado," she said with a grin.

That accent of hers was making me heat up on the inside and I was sure Nicole felt a little jealous of her in some shape or fashion (probably shape now I thought about it). Nicole was definitely prettier than her... but Zamora definitely had a better body. I shook her hand and she did the same with Nicole.

"Royce Torres," said the man with a nod.

"You were from Boston," I said observantly.

"Man... is my accent that damn obvious?" he asked with a chuckle.

I smiled. Royce was lanky and light skinned and sported a black fauxhawk with some light stubble. He donned a black belstaff jacket and dark blue jeans with red Converse sneakers and had a messenger bag slung around his body.

"What's your name little lady?" asked Royce.

"Nicole Prester," she replied.

Royce nodded at her.

"Mr. Antoine asked me to show you guys around the place and seeing as I want to someday be a navigator, why not start with Horseshoe!" said Zamora with a giddy smile.

"I'm just passing through, heading for Canary at nightfall," said Royce.

"But you just couldn't let an old friend walk by could you Roy?" said Zamora with a smile.

Royce rolled his eyes and put at arm around her.

"This chick's like the little sister I never had," he said with a chuckle.

I smiled at them. Zamora handed me a brochure, detailing all the places of interest on Horseshoe Island. What surprised me was the fact that it was hand drawn.

"You drew this yourself?" I asked.

"Yep!" she said with a grin.

I felt my stomach rumble.

"How about food first?" I said with a nervous laugh.

"I know just the place," she said as she beckoned us to follow her.

She led us through the streets, swaying her hips either on purpose or because her figure put it on autopilot with every step. It was puzzling how effortlessly she had such a body and there was no evidence of physical activity.

**Later That Evening**

"Thanks for the great day!" I said.

"No problem," replied Zamora.

We spent nearly 8 hours with Zamora and Royce and I learned a lot about them.

"Well it's nearly time for my ship to head out for the Canaries so I gotta get going," said Royce.

His days as a messenger evidently instilled within him the importance of punctuality.

"I'll come visit another time Zammie," he said as he hugged his 'little sister'.

"I'm gonna miss you Roy," she said.

He released her before waving at Nicole and I.

"I guess I should let you two get to your ship for departure now," she said.

"Why not come with us?" I asked.

I had no idea where that line came from; she must've made a lasting impression for me to say something like that. I also aimed that line at Royce for some reason I couldn't fathom.

"We do need a good navigator in case Fred gets sick and you really seem to have everything down. I guess Antoine wouldn't mind a pair of fast legs onboard for errands either," I said.

"You really think Antoine would let me aboard?" she said in disbelief.

"Yeah would he?" asked Royce, his tone betrayed his thoughts on the idea.

I nodded at them. I felt a piercing gaze from Nicole, presumably because I asked Zamora to join us but I ignored it; we likely wouldn't see them for months and who knows what could happen in all that time in this hellhole of a world.

"Well... I guess I could come with you two but I'd need to get my stuff," she said.

"Meet us at the Longhorn by the pier," I said.

They nodded and ran off.

"Where'd that sudden kindness come from?" asked Nicole.

"I guess we should hang onto friends as much as we can in these bad times," I said shrugging.

"I don't mind them... but I didn't expect you to be the one to pop the question on them," she said honestly.

I shrugged.

"Oliver's at the Longhorn with the crew so I guess we'd better not keep em waiting," I said.

She nodded in agreement as we walked towards the bar.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

We all joined Oliver around the table inside the slightly crowded bar. He sighed slightly.

"Alright Nicky boy... so tell me about your day," he said tiredly.

He eyed the two new friends we brought with us and I took a deep breath as I began to tell him everything about our day together.

**Oliver**

I had to say I was not expecting Nick to bring friends. Don't get me wrong I was hoping Nicole would at least accompany him on his leave on Horseshoe (and it seemed as though she had), but for him to bring more people back was near unheard of.

I listened to his tale, failing entirely to hide the smirk that played upon my lips as he told me about his handling of the small gang of thugs following their harassment of Nicole. I gave her an encouraging smile and a subtle thumbs up, though that still didn't stop her casting the odd glare at the Spanish girl, Zamora. Was she jealous? Certainly the young girl was packing an absolutely rocking figure but I wouldn't have imagined Nick would go for that kind of thing when Nicole was flashing all kinds of signals that she dug him. Would he?

Finally he reached the end of his story; where he'd extended the hand of friendship and asked Zamora and Royce – the big guy – to join us on our trip to the Canaries.

"Well…" I began when he finished, swirling my bottle, watching the way the alcohol moved, "sounds like you've been up to a lot then."

I glanced at the newcomers.

"Well, let's get this introduction over with then; long past its due."

I held out my hand to Royce.

"Name's Oliver Faraday, nice to meet you," the big guy took my hand in a firm grip. That was certainly promising.

"Royce Torres. Likewise partner," his accent was distinct. Boston? Interesting… Boston was one of the last bastions of humanity to have been evacuated as the dead had risen up across the world.

Royce released my hand and I turned to Zamora.

"And you?" I asked.

She watched me guardedly at length, and only took my hand after a moment's scrutiny (even then I felt her reluctance practically bleeding off her).

"Zamora Delgado," her reply was concise and short. An awkward atmosphere settled over the table as she gingerly released my hand, glancing to her hand as if making sure all her extremities were still attached. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little offended.

"Don't fret I'm not poisonous," I sighed. The young Spaniard sent a worried glance my way.

"Oh I didn't mean–"

"I'm sure you didn't," I interrupted, dryly. I suddenly lost my will to stay here much longer and got myself up from my seat.

"Well, I suppose we got to get you guys sorted out with Antoine. Come on Nick; let's get 'em back to the ship." I said, downing the last of my beer and setting it down with a decisive 'clink' of the glass.

**One Hour Later**

**Nick**

"Of course they can come with us! I've actually been looking for a pair of legs to run errands for me and Zammie my girl you should've joined me months ago," said Antoine.

"See, what did I tell you?" I whispered to the two newcomers, not quite able to hide my smug tone.

We boarded the ship for departure to Canary Island and I took Royce and Zamora to him for approval.

"Royce you're gonna have to share a bunk with Wesley below deck, I trust there won't be a problem since you two are friends?" Royce shook his head, Antoine beamed at him before turning to Nicole, "Would you mind sharing your room with Zamora, Nicole?" asked Antoine.

"Not at all sir," she replied.

"Splendid! Welcome aboard!" he said, his delight all too apparent.

Zamora and Royce left the room with Nicole and Antoine put a brotherly arm around my shoulder.

"Couldn't resist the eye candy could ya lad?" he teased.

I chuckled.

"She's really good with maps and Royce is pretty quick so I figured you could use em," I said.

"That's my boy! Still glad I hired you and Oliver to this day! You two kids have been great to me these past times and I still can't thank you enough," he said.

Antoine was a humble man, grateful for our presence and dedication. It went both ways; I owed a lot to him for giving me a job to support Lisa and mom, and also for having been able to meet Oliver.

"Well you better get some rest, we've got a long day ahead of us once we dock at Canary," he said.

"Aye aye skipper," I replied without hesitation.

He chuckled heartily as I left the room.

**Oliver**

I hadn't bothered going to introduce the newbies with Nick; they were his friends and he and Antoine were almost as close as I was. Being some of the only people who stuck with him when he was going through a rough period had helped immensely in that regard. Besides, I hadn't liked the look that the Hispanic girl had been giving me; it made me uneasy and no amount of charm I'd put on had been able to entirely dispel it.

A member of the crew burst in, leading a woman. A heavy make-out session started as they edged towards an empty cot before one of them became aware of my presence as I pretended to be asleep. Hushed voices followed, half-embarrassed and half-frustrated. Presumably they hadn't been able to find a place to be alone. Then they left.

I felt a grin come to my face.

_Good on you man._

_You go girl!_

As I watched them leave out of the corner of my eye I felt a strange yearning in my chest I'd not felt for a long time. As far as I was aware there'd only ever been one who was both the cause, and the cure.

_Gamma._

I wondered if she was still alive. Maybe I'd seen her in a dream, unable to remember it. Not for the first and certainly not the last time I cursed the blood pumping through my veins. It made me something more than human, but I'd not asked for it, nor would I wish it on anyone. No matter how much I laughed and joked and charmed with Nick and the other members of the crew, I'd always feel like an outsider. Someone living this life on borrowed time and someone would come to collect sooner or later.

I eased myself out of that depressing train of thought and turned on my side, eventually drifting off to sleep, where blonde hair and horrible visions awaited me.

**-X-**

The pack drifted slowly towards the trader vessel, the vibrations caused by the ship's movement ringing through their twisted bodies, sending shivers of primal excitement throughout. The creatures closing in had once been turtles, but the virus had taken hold and twisted them beyond any recognisable form. Vicious, barbed claws extended from a scaly, diamond-hard back, and their elongated heads were lined with dark, pulsing veins, eyes as deep and black as midnight, and a wide shark's maw lined with thin and brittle, but sharp teeth.

The first of the pack hooked its claws onto the side of the ship and began to ascend, the other eight beasts followed suit. The first of them clambered on deck, standing just over half the height of a man, glistening wet. They could smell the flesh, practically taste it. One caught sight of flesh on deck; it was entirely unaware, leaning on the barrier, a small, smoking stick in its hand. The flesh raised the stick to its mouth and took a lengthy drag–

–and the creature leapt.

The creature had chosen its moment immaculately. Just as the flesh had released its breath – a small cloud of smoke that stung and irritated the creature – the monster was upon it, rending and tearing until little more remained of the flesh than a bloody mess. The flesh had no time to even consider raising the alarm.

The creature hissed, beckoning the rest of the pack forward, and they began to feed, swallowing meat, bone and cartilage with hungry abandon. Eventually all that remained of the flesh was a couple of fingers and a pool of blood. The creature's sniffed the air before an unspoken signal passed between each of them, and the pack split up.

There was prey yet to hunt.

**-X-**

**Still got four more slots open. As of now it's three guys and three gals, sorry if I sound like a broken record but me and Wandering Letters would still prefer it if we could equalise.**

**zips out.**


	4. Stowaways

**This has actually been completed and sitting in a folder for a while now, but it's only recently that my internet's decided it wants to play ball and actually allow me onto the site for longer than ten minutes. Swear to Christ above ever since the building works began next door our connection's taken a nose dive, we're lucky if it cuts out every half an hour or so, which as you'll imagine, makes updating rather difficult.**

**Still have four more slots for character submission.**

**Scavengers**

**Chapter Four: Stowaways**

**Graffiti sprayed on the wall of a derelict warehouse, Central United States Deadzone:**

_In Midnight clad we come. Repent._

**Nick**

I woke up rubbing my head. I had no idea what time it was, but it was dark and my head hurt like hell. I sighed as I stretched my tired limbs and opened my door to get some fresh air. I stepped out into the tiny corridor of the lower deck and, to my horror, spotted a huge pool of blood out on the deck. My instincts screamed for me to get back inside and seal the door shut. My gut told me to alert everyone onboard the ship. I dashed to the alarm and punched it with excessive force, triggering the huge blaring sound that echoed throughout the ship. Oliver came out of his room.

"What the hell is going on..." he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his eyes found me by the alarm, "why'd you hit that?" he asked, his voice croaky.

"Cause of _that_!" I replied, pointing at the stain.

Oliver's eyes opened wide at the sight of the pool of blood.

"Holy shit!" Wesley exclaimed as he trudged up from the deck below.

Royce followed him, his expression mirroring his friend's before hardening instantly.

"BOWs..." said a gruff voice.

I looked up the stairs to see none other than Captain Warner.

"The ship's under attack! Everyone back to your rooms!" said Warner.

My thoughts turned to Nicole and Zamora. I dashed off to ensure they were safe.

"Where the fuck are you going Nick!" shouted Oliver.

"To find the girls! I'll be back soon!" I replied.

**Several Minutes Later**

I was horrified to find more bloodstains on the floor and I knocked hard on Nicole's door. I suddenly heard a roar behind me and I was face to face with one of the monsters that must've done this. The door opened but I slammed it shut.

"Seal it!" I shouted.

"What's going on!" shouted Zamora.

I didn't have time to respond when the monster swiped its claws at me. I rolled out of the way and looked around frantically for a weapon I could use; if I left it alive, it would tear the door down and kill both of them. My eyes hovered over a nailgun sitting on a crate and a machete that we usually used to remove the heavy duty rope that covered the crates we unloaded. I sprinted for the weapons. The turtle-like creature moved with a speed I didn't expect from something so big, it was practically on top of me within a moment. I grabbed both the weapons and quickly bounded over the crate to dodge a vicious swipe of its claws, destroying the crate and spilling the contents all over the floor. I noticed the contents were several types of guns.

"Must be the cargo the Scavenger team brought on," I murmured to myself.

The beast looked at me and roared a challenge. I thought to myself as how best to attack the beast. It made no sense to attack it from behind because of that massive shell. It would be difficult to attack the front without taking a hit from those claws… but it was my only option. I fired nails at its head and it raised one of its hands to shelter its face from the raining projectiles as I ran forward. I slid across the wet ground and held the machete firmly as it sliced the creature across its underbelly. It screeched in what I assumed was pain but it turned and charged again.

I sprang to my feet and jumped onto the railing before pivoting on my hands to swing myself to the left. The creature barely missed as I rolled away from my leap on the rail. I fired more nails towards its head and I saw the projectiles sinking into its flesh. It turned to me again and lashed out suddenly with the back of one of its limbs, knocking me flying a good distance down the corridor.

My grunt of pain must've terrified the girls as I heard Nicole scream my name. I recovered from the shock as the creature came at me again though much more slowly. I ducked under another swipe and jabbed the machete into its chest. It stumbled back and tried to pull the weapon free but its claws were too large for it to get a grip. It finally ceased its futile attempts and angrily charged at me again. I stepped back out of reach of another slash before kicking the handle of the blade as hard as I could, sinking it deep into its body with a sickening slicing sound. Bringing the nailgun up I then proceeded to empty the remaining nails into its face.

The monster fell to its knees. I strode over to the reeling beast and took the machete by its gore-soaked grip before tearing it to the left, opening a massive gash before it slumped to the ground. I panted softly before I knocked on the door. It opened and I was greeted by both girls almost tackling me with a simultaneous hug.

"Don't scare me like that again Nick!" sobbed Nicole.

"You crazy Asian bastard!" Zamora .

They released me from their embrace as they examined the dead monster on the ground.

"We better get back to the others before more of them show up," I said.

They nodded and followed me. Gunshots began to ring out as the crew of the _Endeavour _awoke to the threat.

I could only hope that I'd raised the alarm soon enough.

**Oliver**

I rubbed my head as I checked the spear gun. I had one spear loaded and three more as backups. It would have to do.

I shook my head as I checked the weapon and made sure I had my diving knife. I didn't swim often – no telling what was in the water these days – but the weapon was easily concealable and fairly easy to miss. I strode to the door of my quarters and took a breath. I could hear the odd crack of gunfire every now and then. Clearly contact had been made with whatever had started the slaughter.

I stepped out.

Nothing attacked me. That was good. I decided to head up to the captain's quarters to check on Antoine. Nick had gone to check on the girls and Royce had headed off with Wesley in another direction. With nothing but the blaring alarm keeping me company I had to assume that everyone else was fighting whatever had stowed on board.

_Or dead…_

I checked the corridor before heading up to the main deck, where a scene of carnage awaited me. Blood spattered the deck, and the odd chunk of a human could be found lying amidst the pooling fluid. I saw the disembodied head of one of the Scavengers on board and felt a snarl work its way unconsciously on my face.

_So much for the best we have to offer._

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and reacted just in time to avoid a swipe that would have taken my head clean off my shoulders had I spotted it an instant later. A monster stood before me, even hunched low on all fours it came up to my waist height. A strange, dark carapace covered its back, and a lean, slender head lined with teeth extended from the top. Its slim limbs ended with vicious, barbed claws, wet with freshly shed blood.

I brought the spear gun up.

The monster leapt.

The spear merely glanced off the thing's carapace as it dived for my throat. I dropped the spear gun and leaned backwards in a deadly parody of a game of limbo. The monster sailed over me again, landing next to a corpse it had presumably been feasting on before I'd disturbed it. I felt my heart sink as I realised it was our navigator, Fred.

"He was a good guy," I felt my lips curl in hatred for the monster before me.

"They were _all _good people."

I let my rage overtake me. Before the beast had time to so much as twitch I was on top of it, lashing out with a wild, brutal kick that broke its jaw and knocked a number of bloody teeth flying. The beast reeled, confused that its prey had moved so quickly.

"What's the matter?" I taunted, still seething with fury, "Never had to fight something stronger than you?"

As if to challenge my probe, the monster released a guttural, resonating bellow before leaping once more. I ducked underneath the attack and hammered a fist into its soft underbelly, feeling organs break. The monster hovered in the air for a moment, unmoving, winded by the blow. I didn't give it a chance to recover, thundering another fist into its gut, and another, and another, before finally letting it drop. The creature mewled pathetically, waving a claw weakly in my direction.

I spat on the monster's head before retrieving my spear gun, pointing it squarely at the forehead of the monster and squeezing the trigger. The creature died. I stood before its lifeless carcass for a moment, pondering my victory before taking hold of the spear and yanking it from its head in a thin spray of gore.

The realisation that I'd broken the vow I'd made hit me a moment after. Panicking, I twisted my head, making sure there was no one around who had seen my little display. A shout and a gunshot from the bridge just beyond drew my attention. I recognised the voice.

_Antoine._

I didn't have time to worry about what people would think (or the sudden bout of exhaustion that befell me the moment I'd executed the BOW), my friend and employer was in danger and I'd be damned if he died while I could do something about it. I grabbed the other spear I'd fired from the wall it was embedded in and loaded a fresh projectile.

Bounding up the steps, I crashed into the bridge to find a scene of carnage. A rebellious thought told me we'd likely lost at least a third of the crew to this attack and we'd probably lose more before the night was out, depending on how many more of these beasts were on board. Antoine was backed into a corner, a smoking, clicking handgun in his shaking hands as one of the creatures advanced on him. The monster was leaking blood, and moved much more slowly compared to the one I'd encountered moments ago, clearly they'd wounded it at least.

I clattered my spear gun on a piece of machinery, the metallic clanging drawing the monster's attention my way. I had the spear gun aimed at its head the instant it turned, and while I was far from a competent marksman, with barely two metres between me and the beast I could hardly miss. The spear punched through an eye before burying itself halfway in the monster's skull. The BOW shivered before collapsing in a heap.

"Th-thank you…" Antoine said shakily as I helped him to his feet.

"Anytime."

Antoine took a moment to catch his breath before casting his gaze over the bloodbath on the bridge. He gulped and then promptly emptied the contents of his stomach. I stood guard over the open entrance until he caught his second wind.

"How…" he started in between pants, "how did this happen?"

I didn't answer. The waters were a dicey game every time you ventured out. No telling whether you'd make it to your destination without seeing a thing, whether you'd catch a school of fish… whether or not your boat would become the target of a sea-roaming monster. As it happened, our luck on that particular front had run out and we got the monster encounter.

"Is anyone else all right? Did you see–"

"Nick went to check on the girls."

Even in spite of the situation and his near death experience, Antoine chuckled.

"Of course…"

I found it considerably more difficult to smile along with him.

"Royce and Wesley are still around… hopefully."

"And what about the Scavengers? What about Captain Warner? Are they…?"

"One of them's just a head on the deck below," I muttered darkly, "Captain Warner went to check out the rest of the ship. No idea how many of these monsters are on board."

Antoine's face fell and he leaned back against the wall for support. Credit where credit's due, Antoine genuinely cared for the people under his wing. Infinitely more so than most other traders I'd seen. Problem was that with so many friendly faces dead (or devoured as I suspected) he was in very real danger of collapsing under the strain of it all.

"Antoine, I'm going in to look for Nick and someone, anyone. Just hunker down here and try not to make too much noise; I'll bring back anyone I can find here. Weapons too. How much ammo you got left?"

Antoine unloaded the magazine for his pistol and peered inside.

"I don't know… I fired about three shots, and the dealer said it was a fifteen round magazine," he answered uncertainly.

"Good enough. Just keep that thing on the door; I'll knock three times before I enter, alright mate?"

Antoine nodded.

"See you soon."

_Hopefully._

**-X-**

Warner paced the cargo hold with a care that seemed impossible for such a large, burly man. His boots barely made a whisper where they tread. It was the product of months spent on the mainland in close proximity to creatures not unlike those aboard the trader vessel, where a single unerring twitch could bring death.

He held his handgun tightly in both hands, ready to bring it up at a moment's notice on anything that didn't fit the profile of human. The cargo hold had one of its few lights smashed; a spent rifle lay next to a half-eaten corpse told a story if Warner cared to pay attention. He didn't. He'd seen far too many similar stories all across the mainland. The fact that it was one of his men pained him even more.

A low, burring growl, almost too soft to hear, reached Warner's ears. He continued for another step. The growl grew louder, something wet dripped on the metal floor of the hold.

Warner spun.

The monster leapt.

Warner's brain processed a hundred different thoughts, each of them screeching at his fight or flight instincts, promising a dozen different outcomes should he duck or dive, fire an instant too early or too late. Warner snarled. He didn't have time to aim.

He squeezed the trigger twice.

The monster crashed to a half just in front of his feet. By some miracle one of his shots had torn a gaping hole in its cranium. Warner spent half a second admiring his luck before a lurching shadow had him raise his weapon again. Two more shots. Four. Another beast joined its kin at the Scavenger Captain's toes, leaking black blood from its mortal wounds.

"Captain?"

Warner pivoted on his feet, the weapon raised at his subordinate's head in an instant before he realised that monsters never spoke.

"Jesus Cap it's only me!" It was Graham from the sound of his voice; the gasmask was still attached to his face as if he believed the air around him was toxic.

Warner lowered his gun.

"Report." He commanded.

"I don't know where to start sir. Load of people are dead. Cole had his head ripped off up on deck, and I don't know where Rachel and Will are–" he stopped when he saw the body of his comrade torn open by a stack of crates.

"Shit…" he swore, "is that–?"

"I don't know," Warner replied, "we'll have to see who turns up at the end of it all. Until then assume whoever it is, is helping fight these monsters off the ship elsewhere." Graham snapped off a casual, sloppy salute.

"Got it Cap," Graham glanced down at the two carcasses by Warner's feet before turning around–

–and dying as another monster reared up and tore the Scavenger's head from his shoulders with a snap of its jaws. Warner swore and spat curses at the creature, raising his weapon and firing off a quick shot that glanced off the creature's tough back, ricocheting down the corridor. The third beast barged into the hold, knocking Graham's headless body onto the floor, blood streaming from the stump where his head used to rest.

Warner spat another nine millimetre round at the monster but it lowered its back and the projectile bounced off. The creature bounded around the side of the hold, always presenting its tough shell towards him and minimising the view on its head. It almost seemed like it knew about the threat guns posed to it.

"Last thing we need is something smart like you running around," Warner murmured to himself.

The Scavenger captain lowered his aim and squeezed off another two shots. The first impacted against the side of the hold. The second caught the monster in its rear left leg. The abomination hissed in pain and stumbled, its wounded limb leaking a dark, viscous fluid that disgusted Warner as he took it in.

Warner took aim at the monster's head–

–and a soft, angry hiss drew his attention to a fourth beast lurking behind him.

"Clever little bas–" Warner murmured before a vicious swipe took him off his feet. His Kevlar sheets provided no protection against the rending claws of the monster, and Warner felt something in him tear. He bled profusely from the gaping wounds in his torso. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, and for a moment it very nearly overwhelmed him then and there.

Bellowing his defiance in the face of his imminent death, he managed to raise his handgun and placed it muzzle-first into the gaping maw of the creature that had ambushed him that was even now leaning in for the kill. Warner threw all protocol and ingrained training out the window and pulled the trigger again and again until the BOW's head was little more than torn meat and blasted bone even as he felt the fangs of the monster sink into his arm.

The wounded BOW loomed over him, having taken advantage of Warner's distraction to close the distance. His arm ached, but Warner still felt he could use his weapon. He pulled his arm from the throat of the dead monster, ignoring the flaring pain from the numerous punctures in the limb, and had the weapon aimed at the dead centre of the beast's head in the span of a heartbeat.

_Click._

Of course that would be the case.

Warner's brain went into overdrive. All but one of his Scavengers were likely dead, and if they died, their mission was a failure and the Islands and humanity would be worse off for it. Warner realised full well that his time was limited as soon as his chest had been opened like a can, but he had to pass on the task. His life was inconsequential compared to what his team had found. The lives of everyone on board this trader vessel were inconsequential as long as the data reached the bigwigs in the Canaries.

And now it seemed as though this data would rot in the bowels of a virus-created horror for all time.

Just as the last vestiges of hope residing in the burly, broken Scavenger were about to shatter, a gunshot rang out, deafeningly loud in the confines of the cargo bay. A member of the crew stood in the entrance, Graham's weapon in his hands. Stubble decorated his jawline, his eyes were wide and alert, his stance was perfect… Warner swore for a moment that he was looking not at a young trader's assistant, but a trained killer.

The monster slumped to the ground; still, silent, and very dead. Its slavering jaws had been a microsecond away from tearing through Warner's jugular. Not that he'd need it for much longer, he thought morbidly to himself.

The assistant dropped Graham's rifle, and in an instant, the killer façade was gone, replaced by a worried, but able bodied man.

"Holy shit…" he whispered out loud as he took in Warner's injuries, kneeling down close to him, his hands opening and closing. He had no idea what to do, or where to even begin.

Warner mustered the last of his fading strength and reached into a pocket which had remained miraculously untouched by the claws of the BOW. He drew from within the pocket a memory stick, along with a few folded sheets of paper decorated with hastily scribbled notes.

"Take this…" he gurgled, feeling blood pool in his lungs. It was a far from pleasant feeling.

"Get it to Eric in the Canaries… on Tenerife… he'll know what to…"

And with that, Captain Warner of the Scavenger Corps died, his head dropping slack, hitting the metal floor of the hold with a dull, resonating thud.

**-X-**

**Oliver**

The aftermath of the assault on the ship was spent mopping up blood and finding out exactly who had been killed, which basically consisted of everyone who was so far unaccounted for. Eight of the monsters had been killed. Whether there had been more and those beasts had slipped away, or that this was the entire number was anyone's guess.

More than a third of the crew are dead. That totals to just over thirty people. People who, barely twelve hours ago, we were sitting and drinking and talking with like it was just another day.

Guess every so often the world likes to remind us that safety is only a relative concept. Still, I suppose it's down to Nick throwing the alarm that we didn't lose more. The Scavengers all died, including Captain Warner who looked like he was invincible, that said though the fact that three of those beasties died at his hands is nothing short of awe-inspiring. I barely managed to fight off two even with my respective… gifts… and I was practically running ragged through the entire ordeal by the end of it; clearly I'm out of shape.

Speaking of my friend, I saw him sitting by Zamora and Nicole on deck as the sun rose over the horizon. The latter of was giving the former a suspicious glare every so often, though not frequently enough to be picked up on by either Nick or Zamora I noticed. I was a little surprised she could act jealous with all that's happened, but then I heard from Nick that she lost her sister in a rather gruesome fashion. Maybe she's used to this kind of horror? I don't know…

I finger the data stick in my pocket and the papers burning a hole in one of my pockets. I'm debating on whether or not to tell Nick about this. On the one hand he's my best friend and I know for a fact that he can keep a secret, but on the other…

Actually fuck it I can't think of a good reason not to tell him. Besides if I need to pay a visit to this Eric guy it'd be good to have some company on the way there, or someone to cover for me (though with the recent attack I sincerely doubt that the topic of work is on a great many minds on this ship). Antoine sits on the bridge mourning. No one's spoken to him since I brought back a few of the crew and told him that we were probably okay. I spend a moment wondering if Warner told him why he needed passage to the Canaries and decide to pay our boss a visit later.

I recall a phrase, or part of a phrase from less-than-pleasant days about the burdens of command, of leadership. I decide then that I likely wouldn't make a very good leader, and switch my train of thought, trying to think of something even mildly more uplifting, like the young woman's fluttering eyes from our last stop, or chatting with Nick just before we cast off from Sylvan. They seem so long ago now.

I stop fiddling with the data stick and sigh heavily before making my way over to where Nick and co. are sitting.

I preferred my days when consisted of dealing with unhappy customers.

**-X-**

**There's a reference to an outstanding sci-fi series in here, try to find it.**

**On another topic; I'm severely behind where updates are concerned. I'm juggling four other stories on this site, one of which has been left so late that I've had a PM or two asking me if I've actually abandoned it. I've said this more times than I really think is necessary but I'll say it again anyway; no, I will not abandon the various works of fiction I've published on this website. Updates for those will be slow, especially since now I've finally found myself a job, but they will be done.**

**Credit to Wandering Letters for his help and co-operation with this story and, again, to our mutual fan Jen Jen Yuki for spurring us into this effort in the first place.**

**Thanks also to our readers and reviewers.**

**Cheers**

**P.S. Still four more character slots in case you didn't notice.**


	5. A Time to Relax

**This was meant to be done a long time ago. I apologise for that, but I'll also point out that I did warn you updates would take a while.**

**Scavengers**

**Chapter Five: A Time to Relax**

**Letter sent to Eric Bleacher from Captain Ethan Warner of the Scavenger Corps:**

_This is it… this is everything we hoped for and more. I wish I could tell you exactly what my team found but I'm afraid if I do…_

**Nick**

"Are you shitting me?!" I exclaimed loudly.

Oliver nodded his head as I slammed my fist into the table.

"You realize that we're going to have to explain what happened to the team right?" I said.

"No shit Nick; we're holding what could be our last hope for a world without this fucking virus," growled Oliver.

I sighed as I put my hand on my face.

"We'll be docking soon so you kids better get ready to go," said Antoine, his face drawn and lined with fatigue.

Nicole walked out of the kitchen and placed a tray on the table with a plate of food for each of us.

"Thank you my dear," said Antoine with a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

Nicole smiled at him as she began to eat.

"My god girl you sure know how to cook!" said Royce.

"I second that!" said Zamora.

I took a bite of the food and I found myself staring at her in disbelief.

"How the hell did you do all of this with that limited fridge?" I asked.

"Improvised," she said with a wink.

I knew Oliver was snickering at me in the inside when he saw the look on my face and I hid myself from view. In the background I heard our new lookout calling that he'd spotted the Canaries.

**An hour later…**

**Oliver**

"You lot from Antoine's vessel?" a voice called as we all stepped off the trader vessel.

The man was large, hulking in size and with a large rifle strapped to his back. He looked similar to Warner in that his head was shaven, though he was far uglier, with a crooked nose and a face that looked like it had been pinched too many times as a child.

"Where's Warner? He said had something important for us," he said, making the question seem more like a demand.

I figured I'd do the talking, seeing how I'd discovered his body and all. I stepped up to him, and couldn't shake the feeling that he could snap me like a twig if he so wished.

"Warner's dead. Bunch of gribblies boarded us overnight. Third of our crew died including the Scavengers," I didn't sugar-coat it; he didn't look like the sort to take patronisation too well.

The large Scavengar grimaced at my response.

"He give anyone anything?" he asked gruffly.

I hesitated, turning my head towards Nick, who nodded. With that, I reached inside one of my pockets and handed him the datastick and the notes. The Scavenger didn't read them, simply taking them and nodding.

"Are you Eric?" I asked.

The Scavenger shook his head.

"I know him, and you can rest assured I'll take these straight to him," he turned to two other Scavengers behind him and motioned for them to come forward.

"These two will take you to the Kojack Hotel, one of the only places that still acts like everything's normal. Get settled in, we'll give you a call if we need anything more from you."

I blinked, that was rather generous. I said as much, to which the big man simply shrugged before heading off, presumably to take the data to whoever this Eric person was. I walked back to the crew of the ship, who milled around uncertainly.

"So what's going on?" Nick asked me.

"We're going to stay in a hotel apparently," silence followed my announcement.

"Cool, I guess," Zamora said after a little consideration. Royce simply nodded in consent, while Nicole – to my own amusement – sent a look towards Nick before giving her own assent.

"If you're all ready?" one of the Scavengers asked, her voice indicating that it was a woman beneath the gas mask. Our party nodded and the two led the way to the Kojack.

**-X-**

The Kojack was, in a word, extravagant. I'd seen places like this before the apocalypse while taking part in operations best described as clandestine, but since the missiles launched and the virus spread I'd never have believed that places like this could have still existed. I could tell from the slack jaws of my colleagues that they felt the same way.

"We're staying in _that?_" Zamora asked aloud.

Nick whistled appreciatively, while Nicole gave a grateful nod to the two Scavengers that had led us here.

"Beats the last place I slept," Royce murmured, before adding; "and the one before that… and the other one…" he went off on his own tangent.

Clean, crisp red carpets lined the marble floor. Columns and pillars fashioned in the style of Ancient Greece held the entire structure up. The place was immaculately clean; I'd wager quite comfortably that you'd not find a speck of dust anywhere in the building. A wide, grandiose staircase led to an upper foyer, where bellhops offered to take luggage.

And this was just the reception.

"Best make the most of this," Nick advised as he observed the interior of the hotel, "chances are we're not going to be staying for long."

"Way to rain on everyone's parade," I muttered dryly.

"He's probably right though," Zamora said with what she must have thought was a sidelong glance at Nick. I shook my head. What was it about this guy that was so alluring he attracted people he barely even knew? Was the universe playing some huge practical joke on him? I cleared my head of the thought as the receptionist handed us all our room keys. All of us in rooms 212 to 217. Nice and convenient.

I moved my meagre belongings inside the space of ten minutes then decided I'd step out and try to find Antoine, see how well he was coping. Nick offered to come too, having known him as long as I had if not longer, but was dragged away to the pool by the two girls. I couldn't find Royce anywhere but I assumed we'd see him sometime soon.

It was well into the afternoon by the time I hit the streets. People wandered around and every once in a while you'd see a car or a van pass by, each of them loaded with goods to take to another market on another part of the island. Unlike our home of Sylvan, the atmosphere here was almost normal, like the bombs had never fallen and the dead hadn't risen from their graves. People walked with their heads high, dressed in neat, clean clothes lacking the creases that told of near constant wear.

A ruckus from a side alley caught my attention. Suddenly I felt someone collide with me and both of us were knocked sprawling to the floor. Shaking my head after the knock it had taken from the concrete I took a look at the clumsy person who'd hit me. Suffice to say I was more than a little surprised to see a young woman, a tiny thing whose only features really worthy of note in my opinion was the beauty mark just below her left cheek and her long, dark curly hair kept in a messy ponytail.

I was about to make a remark, but the panic in her eyes stopped it cold.

"There she is!" a voice hollered. Craning my head, I could see a trio of men approaching us, neither of them looked particularly friendly, with tattoos, a rough'n'ready appearance with ripped jeans and a tear in their short-sleeved shirts.

"Hey buddy," one of them with a shaven head called as he paced towards me, "mind passing her over? We need her for a sec."

My eyes narrowed; he must have guessed what I was thinking because he waved his hands in denial.

"Nah, nah, nah man it's not what you're thinking. See we need her expertise. We got a friend of ours, really _good _friend who's not feeling so well, and she… well, she's good with medicine yeah?"

The girl looked up at me pleadingly. Either he was lying or there was much more to this than I knew. I noticed that we were beginning to draw a crowd.

"Who's this friend of yours?" I asked guardedly. The skinhead frowned at me.

"No one you're familiar with, guy. Now come on, just hand her over. We'll have her take a look at our friend, then we'll send her along home."

"He's lying," the girl whispered to me, her accent betraying her British heritage, "he's a gang boss; a murderer and a psychopath."

"Hey, what's she saying to you?" the bald man took an aggressive step forwards, "whatever she's saying guy, don't buy into it; it's bullshit! Now are you going to play ball or do my pals have to come get her?"

I clambered to my feet; the British teen got off me and put myself between her three pursuers. This was about to get violent and while I hated being the source of so much attention I knew what Nick would say if he knew that I'd done nothing to help a woman in distress… not really what I wanted to hear from someone so uncomfortable with his own feelings but it was a valid point.

"Fuck it man he ain't caving, let's just wax this deadbeat and take her to Ellis."

I sighed inwardly. Remembering Nick's tale of his time on Horseshoe I wondered exactly what was with us, gangers and violence against women all of a sudden. I was about to warn the girl to get back when a blur shot out from the crowd. For a moment I thought it was Nick, but the newcomer was taller than him by a fair margin, his hair longer.

The newcomer lashed out with a side kick to the base of one goon's spine, taking him off his feet. The bald man swivelled around to find himself face to face with the aggressor. Hooking an arm around the ganger's right arm he pinned it in place, preventing him from swinging a punch. With his own right arm, he placed his palm against the collarbone of the bald ganger. In an instant he hooked a leg behind him and pulled it back, taking the bald man off his feet. In the same movement he pushed with his own palm, slamming the ganger's shoulder into the ground. I heard the crack and felt myself wince as the man bellowed in agony.

The third ganger drew a switchblade and rushed the newcomer. Sidestepping, he let the hasty attack pass him by before unleashing a quick flurry of blows that staggered knife-man. Within moments he took the knife-arm in a firm grip before striking the elbow joint, breaking it. Knife-man went down crying and clutching his injured arm.

The third ganger pulled a gun on him, incandescent fury blazing in his eyes. How someone like this had made it to the Canaries where so many others had died on the mainland I didn't know. Much as I'd liked to have corrected that mistake, killing would have undoubtedly raised more alarm bells and put more attention on me than I wanted. Closing the distance in a heartbeat, I struck him twice in the back and once more in the head. He collapsed like an old building, the gun clattering harmlessly to the floor.

The newcomer turned at the sound, glancing at the gun on the floor. His eyes widened for a moment before rising to meet my own gaze and he nodded in sincere thanks, which I returned. I became suddenly aware that the crowd had more than doubled in size. I fumbled awkwardly for a moment, wondering how I could dispel this situation. Some were whispering among each other, some were fiddling with cell phones. It was crazy; the internet was one of many things that had died with the old world and people still hadn't gotten out of the habit of snapping a picture to upload onto Facebook or something.

A new trio pushed their way through the crowd; police officers this time, though they were headed by a Scavenger. Comparatively small compared with the other officers of the Scavenger Corps I'd seen so far, there was an aura about him that I felt was even more dangerous than either Warner or the hulking Scavenger who had met us at the docks. He glanced at the three groaning bodies on the ground before turning his eyes on me, then the newcomer.

"Jesse," he said, "I should have guessed."

The newcomer shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

"It was three on one; hardly a fair fight. Besides, they work for Ellis," he said, inclining his head towards the gangers. The Scavenger raised an eyebrow.

"Do they now?" he ran an appraising eye over the downed gangers one more time before motioning for the police officers to cuff them. He then turned his attention to me and the girl behind me.

"So which one of you was the cause of this little… skirmish?" he asked. I took a breath and began to explain.

"I uh… have no idea what's going on. She comes out of nowhere and collides with me then those three are asking for her. Then they get violent and–"

"And that's where Jesse there intervenes is it?"

I nodded. The Scavenger donned a wry expression and glanced once more at Jesse, who held up his hands apologetically. He released a heavy sigh.

"Sorry but I'm going to need both of you to come down to the station in order to get the whole picture," he turned back to Jesse, "that includes you too, Yang."

I sighed heavily and allowed myself to be led to the police station, the quiet British girl and Jesse following on as a police van rolled up and the three gangers were pilled inside.

**-X-**

I learned that – much like Nick – Jesse too was mixed heritage (though he was Asian-American, what part of Asia he didn't say, whereas Nick was Chinese-Australian), and that his father had run a self-defence course in a little dojo which he'd inherited. The original building was naught but ash on the mainland but he'd set up shop in the capital of Santa Cruz de Tenerife, and had a modest but dedicated class he took every few days. He seemed like a decent character, if a little too 'go-getter' for my liking.

The British girl insisted that her name was 'Athena' Greyson, but, honestly, I thought that was stupid so I decided to call her either A or Greyson much to her chagrin. She was quiet, I'd say reserved but that wasn't true in the slightest. She was just shy. To top it all off she was practically a walking encyclopaedia. I'd known smart people before, but nothing like this. She could tell you everything about a particular herb off the top of her head and exactly what its applications were. It was as cool as it was strange.

"So you're a trader's assistant? Guess you must get around a lot," Jesse thought aloud on the way back to the Kojack. I don't know why they insisted on coming back with me, and I wasn't entirely sure what had possessed me to extend the offer to join Antoine's crew either, especially considering that Jesse already had a position he'd explained was more than comfortable even if it didn't earn him as much as others in ration credits.

"We see a lot of the world yeah," I answered, pausing a moment before adding; "well, the islands that is."

Jesse nodded.

"I'd love to see the other islands," Athena said softly.

"Alright yeah, seeing new places is pretty cool, but after about a month out you get a craving for home."

A sad smile crossed her face.

"Home… I wouldn't know much about that, I've not had a home since the disaster."

No one said much after that. The trip back to the hotel was awkward to say the least…

**-X-**

**Nick**

**The Kojack Hotel**

"Water's great!" I said.

Zamora walked onto the diving board and I could see many men giving her less-than-subtle looks. She wore a black two piece swimsuit and I couldn't help but stare for a moment. Everything changed when Zamora dove in and Nicole took her place. If Oliver was around right now there would be no end to the teasing he'd be giving me at this moment. Nicole wore a white two piece set and let her hair out rather than keep it in a ponytail and when she stretched her arms up, I saw every single detail of her curves and I was not in the _least_ displeased with what I saw. Nicole dove into the water and Zamora resurfaced in front of me.

"Can you pretend to be close to me... I really don't like all these looks I've been getting," she whispered.

I nervously shook my head as if I heard wrong. Thankfully, Nicole swam close to me as well.

"These guys are acting like there's no other women here," she whispered.

"Probably not as young as you two," I said honestly.

They both cocked their head as if I had a point. To my surprise, they both grabbed onto my arms and smiled brightly. The men looked at me, jealousy clear in their expressions and I laughed nervously.

"Slow down there mate!"

I sighed as I heard my best friend's voice and a splash indicated he jumped in.

"Got someone to introduce," he said.

I turned to see a girl with pale blue eyes, a petite body shape, light fair skin, a beauty mark just below her left cheekbone and dark brown curly hair that was kept in a messy ponytail. She was quite attractive and for some reason she gave off an aura of intelligence. I raised an eyebrow and smiled; I had to take this rare chance to poke fun at him.

"So Oliver! Care to share how you met this lovely young woman?" I teased.

**Oliver**

I saw his game as soon as I caught the glint in his eyes as he took in the sight of Athena. Sorry man but that's not how this works.

"Nice try my friend but I'm the only one who teases," I knew it was hypocritical of me, being that I'd had about as much experience with affairs of the heart as my friend, but he didn't need to know that. Besides I'm not lying; it's hilarious when he gets all flustered over a girl, I just don't think I could pull that kind of reaction off.

I gave an introductory wave.

"A; meet Nick. Nick, this is A. Or Greyson. Depends on your tastes." Athena frowned at the introduction and Nick gave me a curious glance as he observed her reaction.

"It's Athena actually," she said as she took Nick's hand and gave it a quick shake.

"Athena?" Nick asked. She nodded. "That's… unusual."

"We live in unusual times," she replied.

Nick called Zamora and Nicole over, who both introduced themselves, though Nicole looked as though she was eyeing up a potential threat. I resisted the urge to sigh and looked around for Royce.

"Royce about?" I asked.

"Haven't seen him since we checked in," Nick replied, "why?"

"Just curious."

"Well he'll probably turn up sometime soon. I don't think he could turn down free lodging at a place like this."

I hummed in agreement before eyeing up the size of the pool. Expansive seemed to be a common design choice for the Kojack; I'd wager there are smaller Olympic pools. I couldn't stop myself letting out an appreciative whistle.

"See something you like?" Nick asked, the tone of his voice was tinged with amusement. Clearly he'd not give up any time soon on my coming back with Athena.

"I was wondering how long it'd take me to swim to the other end and back."

"Thinking of going for gold?" the teasing glint faded as he reminded himself of another reminder of the old world.

"Cowabunga!" a loud voice exclaimed from behind, followed by a large splash. Both of us turned to see Jesse break the surface a moment later, his long hair slack against his head and neck.

"Hey man!" he waved as he caught sight of me before coming over, "boy this is a sweet place. I'm certain the receptionists here use _solid gold pens!_ Not the plastic ones painted gold; I picked one of 'em up while one wasn't looking and it felt heavy, like it was made of metal! And then there's this place! Damn! I mean I knew the Kojack was fancy but I'd never imagined anything like–"

I decided to interrupt him there, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, but I think I need to introduce you to a few guys. This nobody here is Nick, my best friend. Nick, this is Jesse. I met him along with A in some… unusual circumstances."

Nick's frowning expression at my joke at his expense slowly morphed into curiosity.

"Define unusual."

I proceeded to tell him about my little adventure following my leave of the hotel after checking in.

"I really hope this won't be a thing for us," Nick sighed as I finished my tale.

"Damsels in distress and gang-bangers?" I asked.

"Mm."

"What, you mean that kind of thing's happened to you before?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah. Nicole over there," he pointed out the young Japanese-American woman chatting with Zamora, "ran afoul of some pretty bad customers when we stopped off in Horseshoe. Managed to see them off though."

"Sounds rough."

"Not really, they were pretty clumsy fighters and I only let them come at me one at a time. All things considered I think we got off pretty well."

Jesse nodded his head before casting a quick glance at Nicole.

"So, what, are you two an item then?" Nick's face reddened almost immediately and he sank his head in the water for a moment (I assume to cool off) before rising.

"It's… not like that."

"Really? Pretty sweet looking thing, I'm surprised there isn't a line… the other one too now that I think about it."

"Zamora," I informed him.

"Right, right."

I noticed Nick trying his hardest to feign only mild interest. Goddamnit man and you wonder why I get such a kick out of messing with you when it comes to this.

We lounged around in the poolside area for a while longer before deciding to get out and decide on something to do. I thought we'd just decide to go out for a few drinks before Nicole tugged on Nick's shirt and pointed out a sign notifying us that there was a dance event on the veranda this evening. Some guy's birthday or something. Must have either a lot of friends here or a hundred times his own weight in ration cards if he's got a place like this booked for his birthday.

Naturally, Nick wasn't able to say no, especially when Zamora chipped in, saying she'd never been to an event like it before. Have to say it made sense considering Sylvan and Horseshoe combined doesn't possess even a quarter of the 'wealth' that Tenerife or the other Canaries do. We have to be frugal with what we have. Extravagancy isn't something to be particularly envious of in a world where most of our food needs to be brought in by heavily armed men and women.

You can just _tell_ I'm not a native.

Nicole and Zamora dragged Athena (still think that's a dumb name and I pity the poor girl for it) to go get things for the event. I looked forward to seeing what they'd bring, and what Nick would do once we finally got to it.

That was roughly four hours ago.

It was dark outside. Lights decorating buildings and the streets illuminated the island. The sea seemed black as oil and wholly menacing. It was apt, considering the beasts that attacked us had originated from the Earth's waters.

I carried a cool box filled with cans of alcohol out of my room. Footsteps told me someone was approaching and I turned to see the elusive Royce Torres.

"Hey Oliver," he waved casually, "there a party going on?" he asked, eyeing the cool box.

"In about half an hour there will be."

"Ah. The birthday event, right?"

"The same. If this were the old world I'd say he's pulling a giant publicity stunt inviting all the guests in this place to his birthday."

"You think it isn't?" Royce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know… I don't think so, I mean… what'd be the point?"

"Man, some people just want to be loved. Probably strokes his ego or something."

"That's kind of harsh don't you think? Maybe he's just genuinely nice?"

"Or maybe he's dying and wants folks to remember him for something," Royce murmured to himself, going off on another tangent, placing his hand under his chin and striking a thoughtful pose. He seemed to remember that we were talking because he almost immediately removed his hand from his chin and shook his head lightly.

"You know what; I'll just say 'see you there', all right?"

"All right," I shrugged, then remembered a niggling little question I'd been going over all day.

"By the way, where were you today?" I asked him.

"Hm? Oh I had deliveries to make. I was a messenger before this crap with viruses and monsters. Some people must've got wind I was in town; I was a pretty good courier in the old world."

"Right, right," I nodded, accepting his answer, "all right then, I'll see you down there Royce."

"See you later Oliver."

With that he pulled out the key to his room and stepped inside. I paused for a moment, reflecting on our conversation before putting it to one side and knocking on Nick's door. He opened a moment later.

"Hello? Oh hey mate, how's it going?"

"Not bad thanks man," I held up the cool box, "I come bearing gifts."

Nick chuckled and opened the door to let me in. He stopped a moment after though.

"Wait, this birthday's in less than half an hour, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"We're not going to be drinking all of them man; it's just to get you to loosen up."

"Ha ha," he frowned.

"Not only that but it's been a while since we last sat down and had a few cold ones."

"Lot of things have happened," Nick said, his tone was more than a little morose and I felt my own spirits fall as I remembered the attack last night.

"Yeah… they have."

We strode outside onto the balcony. The night air was warm, and a light breeze caressed my face like a gentle lover. I sat on a white deck chair, Nick took the other. I placed the cool box in between us and opened a can before passing it to Nick, who took it with a nod of thanks. Opening my own can I took a moment to soak in the cool metal of the beer can before clinking it against Nick's.

"Cheers," we echoed before both taking a sip. The drink was bitter and chilled, just as we both liked it, with a strong aftertaste that reminded me, strangely, of lemons.

We sat in silence for a few minutes as we finished our drinks, soaking up the view from the hotel. The moon was out in full and would have cast a beautiful, soothing glow across Tenerife if it hadn't been for the lights already brightening the island. Instead we had to settle for its wobbling reflection on the waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Nice place," Nick said, placing his now empty can by the foot of his chair and reaching for another. I downed the rest of my own drink and did the same.

"I guess," I replied.

"I wonder if my family would like it here."

"You thinking of moving? Why now? We've come here plenty of times before with Antoine."

"Yeah, but this is the first time we were attacked… we could have _died _on that boat Oliver. A lot of others did."

I sat up in my chair and swivelled my legs over the side of the chair, leaning towards my friend.

"So what, you're going to shunt them over here just in case things go tits up?"

"What? No I'm just–"

"Look man, bad shit happens. It's been happening ever since the dead started walking and monsters stopped living in fairy tales. You've heard the gossip; more and more ships are coming back with more crew dead or they just don't come back at all. You ask me; I think we were damned lucky to have only suffered the one attack in all our time with Antoine."

Nick looked like he was about to argue but I cut him off.

"Don't think for a second that I don't feel for those poor bastards who died back there and their friends and family back on Sylvan who are probably still waiting for them to come back home. Drag yourself out of that mood Nick. We all hurt. But unfortunately that's the world we live in."

"Unless we get that anti-virus," Nick murmured, almost immediately I could see his eyes brighten. I remembered his ideals, how he talked about humanity one day reclaiming the mainland. The news of this anti-virus had given him hope, but it was dangerous.

"Imagine it Oliver! We wouldn't have to wonder whether we or our friends would come back from a supply run. The waters would be safe – the _land _would be safe. It can happen! Sure, not today, probably not any time soon but I can feel _real _change coming." He sounded so enthused, his drink sat forgotten by his lap.

"Can't you feel it too? The fact that we just made the discovery that could save humanity and the planet!"

"We didn't make it; we just found out about it and passed it on to the right people," I pointed out.

"Okay, yeah, fair enough, but my point still stands."

He looked at me, and for a moment I remembered the dull-eyed kid I'd met shifting crates on his own by the docks.

_How much you've changed._

I'd changed too. I'd like to think for the better, though almost anything could be considered an improvement when you take my background into account. I doubted there was really a place in heaven for me, not with all I've done, but if there's one for Nick – and I've got no reason to believe that there won't be when his time comes – then I'd do everything in my power to make sure that spot stays vacant as long as possible.

"Olie? You listening?"

I'd realised that I'd spaced out on Nick. I shook my head in embarrassment.

"Sorry man, I was thinking. What were you saying?"

"Thinking about what?"

I paused for a moment before raising my can and eyeing it for a moment before shaking it to gauge roughly how much was left.

"Thinking that I'm really glad I've got a friend like you."

Nick seemed momentarily unsure of what to say before a warm smile broke out on his face. He picked up his drink and raised it.

"I'm really glad you're my friend too mate," he said before we clinked our cans together once more before downing the last of our drinks.

"Seriously though, what were you thinking?"

I chuckled lightly, though I wasn't sure how I was going to answer him. Fortunately I was saved by a knock at the door, followed by Zamora calling;

"Nick? It's time for the dance! Nicole's here too."

At that moment what felt like the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever donned split my face as I looked at Nick's reddening features.

"I'm thinking that it's game time Nicky-boy."

**-X-**

**Little cool-down chapter for you all. Next one will focus more on the characters, which I'll discuss with Letters (who also owes me a dance segment from Nick's POV). Let me also say that this is not (primarily) romance (well okay it is kind of, but not from me, ask Letters who is infinitely more experienced in writing on that kind of subject), and that the awesome slaying of many, many foes will come in due course.**

**I'd also like to point out that we still have two primary character slots. Ideally we'd like one guy and one girl to even things out, but at this point (and I'm purely speaking for myself here) I'd probably be fine with two of either sex so drop us a line in a review or a PM if you're interested.**

**Cheers,**

**zippo**


	6. A Little Tour

**The stars have aligned once more and with it comes an update from Letters and I.**

**Enjoy.**

**Scavengers**

**Chapter Six: A Little Tour**

**Nick**

I made my way through the crowd towards Nicole who separated herself from Zamora. Inconspicuously, I walked up beside her, noticing her attempts at keeping her face looking happy.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

She turned to me for a split second in surprise before turning away.

"I'm not that big a fan of parties," she replied.

"Yet you wanted us to come?' I asked.

She smiled at me.

"I thought it would be a good way for us to bond considering we're going to be holding each other's lives in our hands," she explained.

"I see your point," I replied.

I still couldn't get over how gorgeous she looked and her absolutely flawless face. Her dress was a traditional Chinese dress that wasn't too form fitting but was more than kind enough to show her curves and figure. The image of a Chinese Dragon along with the symbols for Purity and Serenity decorated the dress in a subtle mix of red and gold. She wore black high heels and her long hair was shortened by a pair of decorative chopsticks she used to keep the knot of her ponytail together. She must've noticed my gaze as she blushed and turned away.

"You're staring…" she whispered.

"You look amazing," I said.

She jumped slightly at the compliment but smiled as she stood in front of me.

"You look very handsome yourself," she said.

As if on cue, a slow song started to play. I don't know what bumped Nicole into me but it had to have been someone fast considering I didn't even see her move until she was already against my chest. I laughed nervously as I offered her my hand. She gladly took it as we began to rock slowly to the gentle beat. I could just imagine the grin on Oliver's face as this dance went by and I could also imagine Zamora being jealous, happy or a mix of the two. Royce would probably think "well it's about damn time". I had no clue what Greyson would think but then I'd barely known her a few hours. Nicole rested her head on my shoulder and hugged me closely. I nervously recalled all the steps Lisa taught me and gently rocked with the music. I could feel her heart pounding against her chest and her breathing went from silent to heavy.

"How long have you been watching me?" I asked.

She took an audible breath.

"Since the day you first came to the docks with Oliver to work," she replied.

"And why didn't you say anything to me?" I asked.

"I was shy… and afraid of letting someone get close to me again," she replied.

"Why?" I asked.

"Life isn't guaranteed for anyone… more than ever now that things are the way they are," she replied.

It was then that I realized that the death of her family was what caused her to be so conflicted with her feelings. The trauma of knowing that she was likely all that remained of her bloodline and knowing that life can be taken by a spin of the wheel was what held her back despite her interest. Her heart wasn't racing because she was nervous… it was racing because of the eternal stalemate her mind was stuck in. She stayed to watch me because she had the hope that she could let herself care for someone like she did her family but she didn't act because she was so scared of that trauma ever happening again. My hands lowered to her waist and I leaned my head back to face her.

Suddenly, Nicole stumbled and much to my irritation, one of the dancing men bumped her into me and considering the force at which she collided with me, there was no way in hell that could've been unintentional. Nicole sighed softly as did I; what felt like a moment heating up was gone just like that. I let go of her and allowed her to rejoin Zamora while I decided I needed a drink at the bar. To my surprise, I found Greyson and Oliver engaged in what seemed to be a small scale drinking contest.

"Not bad Grey, you hold your alcohol well," said Oliver.

"Likewise," she replied.

I took the time to join them in the drinking festivities and it wasn't long before our entire group joined in, even Royce who had completely vanished at the start of the night. I did my best to keep myself sober but considering Oliver and I were used to getting smashed at the bar back home, I failed in that endeavour quite miserably. The last thing I remember from the night was being dropped onto a bed and receiving a small kiss on both my cheeks.

**Oliver**

Some people are born lucky. Others make their own luck. Some hit the jackpot and Nick was one of those people. I didn't know what he'd done to earn the affections of either Zamora (or even Nicole now that I really thought about it) but good on him if this little three-way went anywhere and I had little doubt that it would in time. He was beginning to open up much more than he'd ever done before.

I'd watched him dance with Nicole while Zamora had stood on the sides, politely declining those who asked for a dance (and there were many). I stayed with a shit-eating grin plastered on my face until finally I decided I'd had enough and decided to go for a drink at the bar. I'd found A there, waiting on a drink of her own.

"What you buying A?" I asked. The younger girl winced at the abbreviation, give her time, she'd get used to it. If not, too bad; there was no way I'd ever refer to someone by the name of an old Goddess.

"Whiskey on the rocks," she replied, I couldn't quite contain my surprise.

"That's pretty strong," I said.

"I need something strong. Pretty terrible day for me all things considered."

"Surely our company can't be that bad."

"Wasn't referring to you."

"Oh, you mean what happened with those meatheads in the market?"

"Mhm," she hummed and gratefully took the glass the barman offered her, taking a long, careful sip of the drink.

"So what's your poison sailor?" she asked me.

"Vodka and Red Bull," I responded.

She goggled and just stopped herself guffawing and spilling her drink.

"That's… a new one on me," she said, stifling her humour, "but I don't think they have Red Bull."

"Really? Damn… guess I'll have to ask one of the Scavs if they can't procure a few crates on their next raid."

I ordered a beer, plain and simple, when the barman got round to me. Greyson had already finished her glass and was waiting on another drink.

"So what was it you did again? Something to do with medicine? That was why those guys wanted you to come with them right?"

"I'm a medic, yeah. Work as an assistant for the doctors at the clinics."

"You said _the _clinics? That mean you work at all of them or something?"

"Most of them. Quite a lot of the people who run them know I've got a good mind for it, my photographic memory helps too, so usually I'm ferried around Tenerife to help wherever I can. I'd like to say I do good work along with the other docs but…" she trailed off. I nodded sagely, supplies were short everywhere and while they did damn good work even the Scavengers were only human and could only bring back so much and sometimes they didn't even find anything worth taking back.

Still, I was impressed. Would have thought anyone working cross-country in the medical profession would have been driven to the brink of suicide from the stress but A seemed to have it down. Either that or she was very good at concealing her inner turmoil.

"A," I told her, "I am in a mind to get very, very drunk this evening. Care to join me?"

She held my gaze for a moment, and then finally shrugged her shoulders.

"Not like I had anything else planned."

"That's the spirit. Just warning you though, I'm all but certain I can drink all of the fancy types here under the table with my liver tied behind my back."

"Not physically possible," she said with a shake of her head, "and I reckon I can hold my own too."

I grinned. I think I was going to like this girl.

"Well, with that in mind," I raised my glass and clinked it lightly against hers.

"Cheers," we both echoed.

Several minutes later Nick came over to the bar, sans Nicole I noticed. I didn't ask and he didn't tell so I assumed something had happened to break them up. The rest of the night proceeded with Nick and I showing (or attempting to in Nick's case) A and everyone else sans Royce how it was done. My enhanced metabolism allowed my liver to process alcohol far quicker and far more effectively than regular folks and the guy still seemed completely steady on his feet by the time we decided to call it a night. Guy's inhuman, made me wonder how he managed to handle all that alcohol with such a comparatively short, lanky body.

Zamora and Nicole supported Nick, keeping him upright until we finally reached our room and helped him onto it, giving him a peck on a cheek each. Wish I'd had a camera with me. We bid each other good night, and settled in. It was by far the best night I could recall in recent memory, and I hoped Nick would share my sentiments when he came to later this morning.

**-X-**

Morning came far too soon for some of us, but it was either deal with a hangover or miss the breakfast bell, and hangovers are a thousand times worse without something solid in your belly. So we dealt, or at least, those of us hung over did. Royce seemed as rough-n-ready as he did when we'd first met him but considering what I'd seen of him last night I wasn't surprised.

"Anyone get the license plate of that truck?" A groaned, propping her head up with one arm while spooning cereal into her mouth with the other.

"Sure it wasn't two?" Nick asked sordidly, his voice rougher than sandpaper. Nicole gave him a sympathetic look and poured him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully.

"Ah you guys are whining too much, I had more to drink than any of you and I'm fine and dandy," Royce said dismissively.

"Not all of us have reinforced livers like you do," Athena mumbled, the dark rings around her eyes were even more pronounced and her eyes were bloodshot. I kind of felt guilty for inviting her into the makeshift drink-off.

Breakfast for us, lasted roughly half an hour while everyone hung over pieced themselves together. Royce pulled me over for a chat and suggested we all go for a little walk outside. It was a good idea. Some fresh air would be no bad thing and while the world was, in a word, fucked, Tenerife was still a magnificent island. A glance at the cities that dotted the extravagant coastline would suggest that the world as we knew it still existed.

The suggestion to head outside became an order when it appeared no one felt particularly up to walking. That was just the leftover alcohol talking so Royce and I decided to help shift their lazy asses in gear, all but threatening to lock them out of their rooms and throw the keys in a deep, dark hole if they didn't at least have a short wander around.

To our surprise, we found Jesse Yang standing outside the hotel, making friendly conversation with an employee. As he caught sight of our group he waved, said his farewells to his friend and made his way over.

"Hey guys," he said cheerily.

"What are you doing here?" Royce asked curiously.

He motioned towards A.

"Just swung by to make sure she's okay. I know for a fact that getting yourself on Ellis' radar is usually pretty hazardous for your health, and that's if you're _useful_ to him."

"You make it sound like you've got experience," Nick noted, rubbing his aching head.

"We've tussled but usually they stay out of my way. I've got friends on this island too; lot of 'em my students."

"You're a teacher?" Zamora asked him, one look at her told me she didn't believe it.

"Self-defence," he replied casually. "Lot of guys I take on are underdogs sick of taking his crap. Some just want something to do or really only want to be able to defend themselves if something starts up but more often than not, they find me because of Ellis' crew."

I sensed a lot of raised eyebrows.

"So this Ellis guy's what, a gang boss or something?" Royce asked.

"Kind of," Jesse scratched the back of his head. "Scavengers have had it out for him since he set up shop in this part of Tenerife but he also sends guys out on supply runs. He's got an army helicopter and a truckload of fuel for it. No idea where he found it but he uses it to bring extra stuff in. Gives some to the Scavs to dish out but it's all but confirmed he takes most of it for himself and his crew."

"So why don't they send a raid out?" Royce asked, his hand stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Cause Ellis has a lot of guys under his thumb. Most of them are thugs but there's a few in high places as well. The Scavs are tough but there aren't nearly enough of them and the Police here on Tenerife are in a similar state, only with much less gear. Scavengers try to put a lid on Ellis and there'll be a localised civil war and that I can tell you for a fact."

It was pretty staggering stuff. Even more impressive was the fact that Jesse knew about all this.

"But there's been a game changer recently," Jesse said, putting his finger up, a wry grin on his face.

"That's the fact that he's sick. Really sick," A interjected.

Ah yes, those gangers we'd beat up a while ago had implied as much and A had pretty much confirmed it herself.

"Exactly!" Jesse snapped his fingers, "Ellis has a lot of guys but I'd wager he trusts them all about as far as he can throw 'em. If he dies his entire operation will fall apart in a matter of days. He's been sending those he trusts most – and that _really _doesn'tsay all that much – out looking for doctors who'll be able to treat him."

He cast a worried look at Athena.

"One of those docs must have given your name, which is probably why they came after you. Don't know if you've noticed but you've got quite a reputation around these parts. A 'Walking Encyclopaedia' some call you. Ellis must figure you'll be able to dig in deep and work out both what's wrong with him and how to cure him."

A looked almost taken aback at the idea that she was a local celebrity, but it was quickly replaced with fear as she realised her predicament. At the same time I also realised that we were putting ourselves and the rest of the group in possible danger simply by associating with her. Nick must have realised the same thing because he met my gaze with a surprising amount of steel.

"Don't worry," Nick told Athena. "We're not going to leave you hanging."

"The more the merrier; or something like that," Royce affirmed. Everyone else seemed to share his sentiments.

"Thanks…" Athena whispered, appearing genuinely touched by our concern. It took a lot of effort for me not to smile at Nick's decision, even if he sounded like he was about to keel over at any moment. Several months ago he'd have been utterly indifferent to the poor thing's situation, fixated only on providing for his family.

"So anyway, I figured I'd take you guys on a little tour around town," Jesse said. "Most of Ellis' thugs know me and unless Ellis actually goes and puts a hit on me they won't do anything. Probably won't do anything to you guys either."

"Hell," I said, "that sounds perfect. These guys need some fresh air anyway so let's do some sightseeing."

Jesse's tour took us through his neck of the woods mainly. A few shady characters gave us some rather worrying looks but kept to themselves. Roughly three hours into it everyone was generally feeling better, much less groaning and complaining and Nick actually looked like he'd recovered completely.

We stopped off at Jesse's Dojo for the last part of the tour. It was a pretty simply building. Bottom floor contained two fairly spacious practice halls while upstairs was where the man lived. Several passers-by had greeted him on our way here; he'd actually stopped to talk to a few of them too. Guy seemed pretty popular, seemed to enjoy what he did and looked like he lived in a pretty decent stretch of town (well, aside from this Ellis guy). If it was back in the old world I'd almost say he had it made.

Seeing the mats lining the floor sent a wave of nostalgia through me. Unfortunately most of it was bad, so I shook my head hurriedly and tried focusing on the good stuff. You see, Nick practices Tae Kwon Doe, and a while back on Sylvan I'd caught him going through a few stances when he showed up early and thought no one was around. I'd asked him about it but he'd blown me off. Eventually I got pissed and threw a punch. Nick had darted around it and knocked me on my ass with a well-placed side kick.

It had only escalated from there and it took Antoine to break up our little duel while the rest of the crew either cheered us on or placed their bets. Since then, more friendly spars became a bit of a thing between us. We tried to ensure we did it at least twice a week or so but because our schedules were usually so busy it was more normal for us to spar only once every two fortnight.

A wicked grin came over my face as I recalled that we were currently tied with a 45 win-win score each.

"Hey Nick," I called in a sing-song tone. He turned to look at me, as did the others.

"How about a quick round?"

**Nick**

"How about a quick round?" asked Oliver, a grin I could only describe as pure evil stretching his reasonably proportioned features.

"As long as you don't kick me in the crown jewels again like last time," I replied. He raised his hands, which basically amounted to 'I promise nothing'.

He chuckled as we walked over to the centre of the exercise hall. I took my stance and Oliver smiled as he came at me. Every time I'd fought with Oliver it was like fighting my equal in every respect save actual skill; he could dodge everything I threw at him, block everything that he couldn't/didn't bother to dodge and had me on the defensive the majority of the time. His overall fighting style was very reminiscent of a brawler but with his own spin on it, considering that he possessed a unique strength and speed that I simply could not compare to anyone I've ever fought.

A heated two minute exchange passed before I leaped back to catch my breath but, as I predicted, Oliver continued his assault, knowing that my greatest weakness was my lack of stamina in comparison to him. Fortunately for me, I knew he'd do just that and I caught the kick he fired at my head with a hand. While he stood in confusion, I took the opportunity to sweep his other leg out from under him, bringing him to the floor. He turned it to his advantage, dragging me down with him and managed to catch me in a submission hold, causing an intense amount of pain in my shoulder and arm.

I knew if I didn't get out of the hold, I'd have no choice but to tap out and losing to him was the last thing on my mind, especially since Nicole was watching us. I kicked him in the ribs, loosening his grip enough for me to break free and roll away. I swung my arm, clearing the painful feeling and loosing the limb up before charging at him. I fired an onslaught of kicks and much to my surprise he began to struggle to avoid them until; finally, I managed to connect with a spinning roundhouse kick. He stumbled to the ground but quickly sprang up and landed a punch to my sternum, knocking the wind clean out of me and sending me to the ground as well.

I lay on the ground feeling almost defeated but as soon as I saw him walk over me, to gloat over his imminent victory I grabbed his legs in mine and brought him crashing to the ground before locking him in a Kimora Armbar. He had no choice but to tap; the Kimora was the only submission hold I knew how to do but it was also one I knew like the back of my hand.

I rolled away before catching my breath and walking over to him and extending my hand to him. He chuckled as he took it and I lifted him to his feet.

"That Kimora's brutal... you cheater," said Oliver.

"Your fist isn't exactly made of cotton mate," I replied. "And didn't I remind you of the crotch shot that you pulled last time?"

"Fair enough then," he breathed and clapped me on my shoulder.

A clapping noise brought our attention to the entrance.

**Oliver**

My defeat smarted, mostly because it meant Nick now had a lead on me, but I was fairly confident I'd claw my way back in time. I was going to make more of a fuss but I let it go, after all his not-so-secret admirer was watching, plus Zamora.

A sudden clapping made us whirl on the entrance to Jesse's dojo.

Three Scavengers stood by the entrance, from the looks of it they'd been watching for a while. The one in the lead was a male, about mid-thirties if I had to guess. Lean, red-haired and almost unnaturally handsome with a nose that was, tragically, a little on the big side and served only to mar his otherwise flawless features. A mish-mash of assorted body armour and Kevlar padding covered him, much of it had been given the distinctive crimson red trim of the Scavenger Corps but most remained either black or tan in colour.

The other two were similarly decked out. One was also a man, who was plain save for three vicious, red lines that ran down his left cheek and stretched to the bottom of his neck. It looked almost like he'd only just been spared having his jugular torn open. The third was a woman, almost disarmingly beautiful, and I had little doubt that wars had been started over faces like this. Three ponytails tied her long brunette hair back; it was easily the longest hair I'd ever seen on any Scavenger. Clear hazel eyes and a face that all but screamed 'glamour' sealed the deal. I noticed that Royce's jaw had dropped and Jesse was staring too. Nick seemed to be doing his best not to but reason can only clamp down on instinct so much.

The edge of the lead Scavenger's lips tugged into a soft grin.

"Miss Marsh seems to have that effect on men, and even some women. People are given to calling her 'Siren'. Rather apt I'd imagine," his eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Manners. I'm Captain Alex Campbell of the Scavengers. My lovely assistants are Charmaine," he motioned to the woman, "and David," pointing to the man.

"We were simply on a rather droll patrol when I couldn't help but notice our resident vigilante Jesse Yang bringing a group of strangers into his dojo. Imagine my surprise when curiosity got the better of me and I happen to witness a most splendid duel," he looked at both me and Nick, his eyes lingering on Nick slightly longer, I assumed because he won.

"Unfortunately, with the patrol comes business," the friendly look on his face gave way to a tired expression.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask all of you to come with me."

**-X-**

**And here… we… go.**

**Another chapter down. Letters and I have been having talks about some interesting places we could take this as it goes along. We'll let you know more sometime soon… probably…**

**Hope you enjoyed, and as always, C&C is appreciated, for both me and Letters. Remember that we write this stuff down together – team effort.**

**On a more unrelated topic I've finally tried my hand at Ninja Theory's DmC. My personal consensus: it's actually pretty good. I'm digging the aesthetic shift and Dante's a much better character this time around. Still spouts off some cheesy, some pretty awful one-liners but he's more down to earth and arguably (some might say ironically) he's a more **_**human **_**character than vintage Dante ever was. That's a good thing in my opinion. Combat is pretty slick too and there's a whole load of crazy shit you can pull off with good reflexes and quick thumbs and holy shit the soundtrack. Let me tell you now that I don't really go for Electronic or Heavy Rock but Noisia and Combichrist have worked wonders with it. It's not a perfect game by any means, but I can safely say that I'm interested as to where NT will take the reboot from here.**

**Zips out.**


	7. Side Story One: Scavenger Three

**Sorry but this isn't an official update, owing to the fact that I'm still waiting on a segment from Wandering Letters who's been dealing with some personal issues of his own as of late. This is a side story mostly inspired by an original idea of mine which ground to a halt because it was unlucky enough to be one of my earlier concepts and thus, has been sitting in a dusty corner of my hard drive for a considerable length of time.**

**Scavengers**

**Side Story One: Scavenger Three**

Nathan Harper decided that it had been, all things considered, a good day.

Granted, they were hiding in the middle of a burnt out apartment block while a veritable tide of undead streamed past the building and Rian had wasn't going to be walking anywhere any time soon but the cache they had found – entirely by accident – was a Godsend. Ammunition mostly but a handful of weapons too, most of them military grade, and a significant amount of canned foodstuffs. No water unfortunately but even finding this much was a great find. Most Scavenger teams returned with barely scraps. Indeed, Nathan couldn't remember the last time there had been a haul of this magnitude and he found his flecked amber eyes leering hungrily at the two carts that held the goods.

Of course, as they had made to leave for their exfil point, a harbour just on the edge of the city where their transport, the _Lady Luck_ (and how apt her name was, Nathan mused) sat a safe distance from, waiting for the green flare to signal their arrival. Captain Booth had ordered them to load the stuff and make their way out; nice and clean, but then, as it usually was, trouble had decided to poke its ugly nose in.

It had started with the chanting on the side street through the long abandoned industrial part of town, and shortly after the cultists had emerged; crawling out from practically every nook and cranny, brandishing cruel, serrated bladed weapons, emaciated beneath their thick, snow white robes, the hoods marked with a bloody handprint. He knew enough about the mainland and its dangers to recognise the so called 'Doom Children'. They usually herded crowds of undead by using their own recently initiated members as lures, bottling other survivors in or pressing them into carefully prepared ambush zones where more experienced members waited. Each one of them was ritually scarred underneath those robes, and he remembered one tale Yani had told him of a Scavenger who had lost his mind when he found the mutilated faces of not only men and women underneath those low hoods, but children too.

The chanting was a terror tactic that, against nervous survivors on a hairline trigger, would have broken them. The hardened men and women of Scavenger Three, with the exception of Nathan, who was new blood, had simply tensed in preparation of the bloodshed to come.

And it had come.

Dozens died as the nine individuals who made up Scavenger Three formed a hasty defensive circle and opened up with their weapons. Crimson flowers blossomed on pure white robes, hoods snapped back, revealing horrifically scarred visages as bullets whipped through the air, punching through bone, ripping into flesh and tearing cartilage. For all that though, the Doom Children appeared to be as numerous as the flesh eating undead, and just as desperate. One slipped through the field of fire to sink a pair of scissors deep into Rian's thigh.

It had been about then that the dead, ever present in the desiccated world, had reminded them all of the constant threat they posed.

A side door to a warehouse, boarded shut, the wood half rotten from the constant exposure to the elements, gave way as a stream of the dead pressed against it, driven into a slavering frenzy by the noise signifying the arrival of prey. They poured out of the building, stumbling into the rear of the gang of Doom Children, devouring those closest while the rest either fought back or fled. Booth had ordered a retreat, and in their haste they had almost tipped one of the carts over as they ran from the growing mass of undead.

The game of dead cat and heavily armed mouse had gone on for almost an hour, and in that hour they had almost been trapped twice by more of the roving undead attracted by the gunfire and Rian had almost collapsed twice from the shock of his wound. Finally they had gained enough ground on their pursuers but then the awful groaning seemed to come from every damned corner of the city. Booth had kicked open the door to an apartment and they had rushed in, four of them hauling the carts up the staircase while Nathan held onto Rian and Booth and the rest secured the doors and then made sure the building was clear.

They now sat in a crusty old apartment on the second floor of the building, the others in the main section while Nathan sat with Rian, who was laid down in the bedroom. Posters of old bands Nate had never heard of even before everything had been turned upside down lined the walls of the bedroom, with the odd pin-up girl here and there for a bit of a change of scenery. Most of these posters were faded, and an old, dried bloody handprint marked the one closest to the entrance. A sizeable bloodstain at the foot of the bed told Nathan that whoever had lived here had evidently lost the battle.

Finally growing bored of watching the burly Scavenger, who had long since lapsed into unconsciousness, Nathan got up from the edge of the bed and strolled into the living room, which also doubled as the kitchen. An old, dusty brown couch had been pushed aside to allow space for the two carts laden with supplies and the rest of Scavenger Three had propped themselves against a wall to catch their breath. Most cast wary glances to the door to the apartment or the windows, one of which Captain Booth stood next to, observing the outside activity with a grim look.

Booth glanced over to Nathan and nodded slightly, and the rookie nodded back after a brief moment of uncertainty before making his way to the Captain, making sure to try and keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. It was unlikely the ocean of dead would hear them over their collective moans, but every Scavenger, even the rookies like him, knew not to take chances where the mainland and its many perils were concerned.

'What's it like out there?' Nathan asked in hushed tones.

Booth snorted, a very unladylike reaction, before flicking a strand of her dark hair from her eyes. In another, more peaceful time, Miranda Booth would have had the face of an angel. The world however, had been cruel to her, and a vicious, jagged scar that ran from the left of her scalp to the corner of her mouth put paid to any looks she might have been proud of. Nathan suppressed a shiver at the hard, cold edge in her frosty grey eyes, which was entirely at odds with her soothing, Southern American drawl.

'Too damned many of them. It's almost like they're migrating, like birds.'

Nathan paused a moment before replying.

'But I thought they said this place was mostly clear.'

Booth shook her head.

'Can't take anything at face value in the Scavenger Corps rookie. Some places will be swarming with zombies one hour and completely deserted the next. Maybe it was clear at the time they gave this place a look over but you should know by now that it can change in a heartbeat,' she took another glance outside before casting her eyes over Nathan's shoulder, 'How's Rian doing?'

Nathan shrugged. 'Sleeping now… listen, I'm no doctor and I know I'm just a rookie but I think we should get him out of here asap. I mean, who knows where that damned pair of scissors has been before that crazy bastard shoved them into Rian's leg.'

Booth grunted. 'All right rookie, you're on my team and I know most of this is new to you but try and keep this in mind: you're on my team now, and in my team there is no such thing as a stupid question or bad talk. You got something on your mind you say it and don't you dare sugar-coat it, rookie or not. Got it?'

Nathan thought for a moment before nodding. Booth gave him a look that he thought was meant to be reassuring. With her scarred face and those haunting grey eyes it looked more like a grimace.

'Trust me rookie, if we had a way out we'd be taking it. But as it is there's zombies practically coming out of the damn walls down there and we'd not get two steps before getting ourselves chewed down to the bone. We'll get out, of that you can bet your ass, but only when that mob down there's dispersed.'

Nathan nodded again. He didn't have much doubt that Captain Booth would see her team safe. The rumours surrounding her would have normally invited scepticism from Nathan, but with her they just seemed to fit. There was an aura about her that inspired him; inspired her team, telling them that, as long as they followed her lead they'd all see the day through.

They waited hours for the tide of undead to pass them by, and eventually day turned to night, when, finally, the groans of the dead began to recede.

'Looks clear, or as clear as it's going to get,' Booth murmured as she peered out of the window, 'Let's go.'

Nathan woke Rian and helped him up as the others carried the two carts down to the bottom of the apartment. The darkness offered only limited visibility and none of them possessed any night vision goggles. Flashlights would only attract the attention of the undead, and so they went by the light of the moon, which was pitifully dull as the treacherous clouds shifted and concealed it.

The road to the harbour took them through winding streets, made difficult by scattered vehicles and items dropped by looters who had likely come under attack as they had tried making off with televisions and other machines. It seemed almost laughable to Nathan that people had once risked their lives for something like a microwave when bullets, food and clothes were the only currency of any significant value in the world as they knew it.

A sudden crash from behind them froze the team.

'Now who the hell–' Booth started before a grating, all too familiar moan echoed throughout the night.

'We're rumbled! Flashlights on; weapons free, we're running for the harbour! Move it!' Booth bellowed. After a brief moment of fumbling, nine beams of light lit up the space before them, illuminating the shuffling forms of several oncoming undead.

'Light them up!' someone yelled and suddenly the space was filled with gunfire. The closest of the shambling bodies stood no chance and were shredded by dozens of rounds but more were on the way.

'Don't stand still damnit! Keep moving before we all get boxed in.' Booth shouted before spinning on her heel and burying the blade of her machete halfway through the skull of a zombie with old, hideous burns.

The Scavengers picked up the pace, the two men with the carts using one arm to hold their sidearms as they pushed onwards, using the mass to scatter any of the roving undead in their path.

'That's it! That's the way!' Booth said approvingly, taking the head of another groaning figure with clinical precision. They were cutting a path through and would be at the harbour in no time at this rate, Nathan thought as he helped Rian shuffle along, who covered the two as best he could with his own sidearm.

Then the groaning reached a fever pitch and Nathan felt his blood chill.

'Run for it!' Booth ordered; a note of desperation in her voice, 'Go! Go! Go!'

The Scavengers broke ranks and pelted forwards. The mob that had passed them by earlier was doubling back at the noise they were making and if they weren't fast they would be all over the beleaguered men and women of Scavenger Three.

'Carts up front! Rookie, hurry up or you'll get left behind!'

Nathan panted under the strain of hauling Rian's bulky mass along. It would have been much easier if he had some–

His thoughts were cut off as something slammed into them, toppling the two men. Nathan slammed his head against the wall of a corner shop and spent a few moments seeing stars, dazed and confused, and not a little hurt. A sharp cry brought him back into focus and he saw two rotting corpses clawing at Rian, who was trying desperately to hold them back far enough for him to bring his sidearm to bear.

Nathan raised an arm to the wall to steady himself and picked himself up, drawing his own pistol, an old Makarov that had, apparently, belonged to an ex-Spetsnaz Major. Nathan put the head of the closest creature in his sights but a sudden bout of dizziness spoiled his aim and almost made him collapse at the suddenness of it.

Nathan shook his head violently and, instead of taking aim again, charged at the two snapping, snarling zombies atop his teammate. He was a slim young man, but putting enough speed on, he managed to dislodge one of the corpses and stagger the other when he made contact. Acting on instinct and fuelled by adrenalin and terror, Nathan put the barrel of his gun to the forehead of the closest zombie and pulled the trigger, painting the road with gore.

He whirled around to see the gaping maw of the second zombie. He swerved aside, realising with growing panic that more shambling horrors were closing in on them.

Suddenly something swatted him from the side. Nathan lost it, flailing his arms about until he realised that there were no snapping jaws lunging for his throat, no foetid arms and cracked nails reaching for purchase where they would clamp down like a vice. Something clattered to the ground to his right, then there was more clattering, like something had been thrown…

Nathan looked down and saw a rifle – Rian's rifle – and several magazines for the firearm at his feet.

'Take 'em and go!' Rian said, the big man's voice quivering, 'I'm not going to make it.'

'The hell you aren't.' Nathan snarled in reply and made to pick the big man up but Rian pushed him away.

Then Nathan saw the blood streaming down his arm, and the wound on his neck.

'Oh…' Nathan said dumbly.

'I'll at least buy you guys some time. Now get the hell out of here before you lose the rest of the team!' Rian paused for a moment, 'And tell… tell my kids that I loved them, and that – for what it's worth – I'm _sorry_.'

Nathan nodded, unable to say anything.

A gunshot snapped him out of his shock and he saw Rian with his pistol in hand, a furious expression on his face.

'Don't just stand there rookie! _Run!_'

Nathan ran.

He scooped up Rian's gun and the magazines and took off; dodging through the street that now teemed with rotting, groaning zombies. It was so dark now he thought for a moment that he was lost for sure, but then he saw the flashlight beams from the rest of the team barely half a block ahead and spurred himself onwards. A claw carved a gash across his cheek but Nathan barely felt it in his panic, his brain operating on autopilot as his body sought the quickest way through the swarming press of undead.

Finally he broke through the ring of undead and saw his team, realising at the same time that they were almost at the harbour. A concrete fence lay ahead, ringing a small coastal warehouse where nautical parts were stored, and an iron gate sat just at the end of the street. The dead swarmed all around, stumbling and shuffling towards the Scavengers retreating for the gate. One of them must have caught sight of Nathan because she raised a hand towards him and suddenly a withering hail of fire cut down a group of zombies bearing down on him.

Nathan didn't bother acknowledging the support, instead focusing on pumping his legs as fast as he could manage towards that gate, which his team had now reached, pushing the carts inside the fence as others put their hands on the gate, prepared to swing it shut as soon as Nathan was through. With an adrenalin-fuelled roar Nathan sprinted through the mob of undead and pounded through the gate. Immediately the others swung it shut and one of them draped a padlock and chain around the bars to seal it shut. It wouldn't hold long, not with the sea of zombies outside pressing against it, but hopefully it would keep the rotting cannibals out long enough for their evac to arrive.

'Pop that flare, we're not out of this yet!' Booth commanded in between long gulps of air, exhausted as the physical exertion finally took its toll.

One of the equally tired Scavengers – Coates if Nathan recalled correctly – reached for her waist and retrieved a flare gun, pointing it skyward before squeezing the trigger. A brilliant green flare raced into the air like a firework, arcing through the sky before petering out like a dying candle flame.

Now the waiting began.

The Scavengers pushed their haul to the edge of a pier before almost collectively collapsing in a heap.

'I am so beat,' one Scavenger murmured underneath a scratched riot helmet.

'I really hope we've got some hot chow waiting for us when we get back home,' said another.

'That would really brighten my day up… night. Whatever. What do you say Rian?'

Silence answered them.

'Rian?' Asked the same man.

Nathan swallowed the lump in his throat before opening his mouth to speak.

'He didn't make it,' Nathan said, feeling his throat dry up as the others turned to regard him. 'We got attacked and – and I hit my head and they swarmed him and… and then he got bitten…' Nathan realised he was still cradling Rian's rifle in his arms, he also realised that, somewhere along the way, he'd dropped a couple of the magazines for it.

An uncomfortable silence reigned.

'Goddamnit,' Coates murmured. The others turned their heads, each of them mourning privately for their recently lost comrade. Nathan had felt sure they'd blame him, and realised he felt relieved that they didn't appear to. What did that say about him? A man had recently died and he was worried about what everyone else thought about him. Shame flooded through him and he hung his head limply.

'It's not your fault,' Booth said, observing him and misinterpreting his expression entirely. 'Rian was… a good man, but he knew this could happen to him. All of us know it could happen. Don't get so hung up about it, cause if you let every death – and there will always be more death – hit you like this, you'll find the business end of your gun look mighty attractive one day.'

With that finished, Booth turned to check on the rest of her team.

The _Lady Luck_ arrived scant minutes later, and the goods were hauled onboard just as the gate finally gave in to the pressure of the frenzied undead and collapsed inwards, allowing them to stream into the complex. Nathan watched them try to shuffle after the retreating vessel, a seemingly endless line of zombies pitching into the ocean as they tried to chase after their fleeing prey. They reminded him almost of lemmings with their focus solely on what was in front of them, unwilling or unable to see the hazards in their way until it was far too late.

Nathan curled his lips in distaste before turning his head away, finding he could no longer stomach to look at the pitiful, but deadly creatures. He passed one of the crew of the _Lady Luck_, who stopped him for a brief chat.

'Gotta hand it to you boyo,' he spoke with a distinctively Irish brogue, 'I don't think I could do what you brave bastards do. Anyways, we appreciate it. All of us… you're goddamned heroes one and all.'

Nathan gave a slight nod and passed the crewman, making his way into the bowels of the ship to his room. His roommate Yani was splayed out up on the top bunk, already asleep and snoring. Nathan sat on the edge of the bottom bed and remained there for a moment, deep in thought.

_You're goddamned heroes one and all._

Rian had given his life up to save Nathan. Rian was undoubtedly a hero. Nathan on the other hand had left him to it. He'd not even looked back. He'd said a few token words but when Rian had told him to run it had been all Nathan had not to sigh in relief. He had been lucky. Nathan was about as far from a hero as it was possible to get, and as he finally curled up on the mattress, he began to weep as self-loathing overtook him.

**-X-**

**So that's the first side story. Most of these will focus on Scavenger Three and this Nathan bloke, but, similar to the 'Logs' of my other story **_**The Pelanoi Accounts**_** other side stories will look at other events and happenings in the world.**

**Until next time.**


	8. Side Story Two: Children of Doom

**I always feel like doing a bit of writing every time someone I'm following updates a story here or on the other site. In this instance I'm afraid it's another side story, focusing on one creepy cult.**

**Scavengers**

**Side Story Two: Children of Doom**

_Six months after the Global Outbreak (colloquially referred to as A-Day)_

The doors to the great Cathedral shuddered, as they had done for the last three months. The sound was so familiar to the hundreds of people who had made the great building their sanctuary that they all but tuned it out in their daily lives, though 'lives' was a generous term for their daily motions. Most simply lay in the great aisles, propped up on the few pews that hadn't been lent to the effort of securing the vast doors or on scrounged sleeping bags on the cold, hard stone floor. Others paced up and down, sheer boredom compelling them to do _something _with the time granted to them. A handful waited by the great stained glass windows behind the altar, one of which had been smashed out and a ladder propped against the yawning opening to allow the inhabitants to go out and scavenge for supplies.

Bishop, or rather, ex-Bishop Ken Francis saw none of this. For the last month he had secluded himself in the Chapter House of the cathedral, only emerging when the odd desolate soul made his or her way to him every few days to ask him the same question.

_Why has God allowed this?_

Ken Francis had been brought up a devout Catholic, and were his parents still alive at the time he very much doubted they could have been prouder at his ordainment as the bishop of Charterton City Cathedral, a lovely place not too far from the East coast of the United States. Despite this he was, at heart, a rational man. Fire and brimstone had no place in an era of modernity and Francis had secretly scorned many of the more conservative among his faith; particularly when news of a pathogen that turned its victims into walking corpses cropped up and the self-righteous rose up and proclaimed that this was the price for allowing homosexuality and depravity into everyday life and that the Second Coming of Christ was imminent.

When news broadcasts from the authorities advised the citizenry to barricade themselves indoors and ensure they had enough supplies to last a good while Ken Francis had welcomed those who had flocked to his cathedral with open arms. A good Christian was nothing if not charitable and many of those looked to the cross for answers, for salvation. The first few weeks had warmed his heart at the sight of so many singing along to Church hymns, sharing their cans of food and bottles of water, basking in the light of the community even as civilisation crumbled outside.

Then the sound outside died, and supplies began to dwindle. Unofficially cast as their leader, Francis suggested that a party of men leave the cathedral and explore to see what the situation was outside. Taking two ladders from the bell tower (which had been in an embarrassing state of disrepair even before the outbreak), they had propped one up against one of the great stained glass windows and shattered it. Francis didn't fear any harm from God – surely He would understand that necessity dictated the action.

The men had placed the ladders and left, promising to return at the first sign of danger.

Six hours later only one had returned. That he had managed to scale the ladder with so many injuries was testament to his desperation. In his panic, made worse from his wounds which were severe, he claimed that they had stumbled across a group of plague victims who continued to walk even with the most horrendous of injuries. They had cornered the party and torn every one of them limb from limb and devoured them. He had only survived because they were too busy stripping the flesh from his friends with their teeth but he had run into another mob of wailing victims shortly after his escape.

Despite the mauling he received he managed to escape yet again, fleeing through half the city to make it back to the looming cathedral, where fear had given him the strength to climb the ladder back into the great church. Moments later a great crash resounded from the cathedral doors, which juddered but did not give way. An awful moaning crept into the cold, stone aisles which chilled the blood and made the younger children cry. The sound seemed to drive whatever was out there into a frenzy as the assault on the doors grew more frantic. Still they held, and after a tense few hours of silence it ceased.

In that time the poor young man who had returned expired, his many wounds draining him of his life. Once enough time had passed Francis held a brief funeral for the man, wrapping him in his own bishop's robes. In the middle of the service however, the body rose. Curious, but grateful for the man's apparent revival, Francis had remove the robes from the body–

–and stared at the foe.

From what he had heard of the deadly plague, Francis had expected hatred, burning red eyes, hellish pupils… _something_.

What he saw instead was nothing. The man's eyes were unquestionably dead. Devoid of passion, of hatred, of violence, of any kind of emotion, even of hunger as the reanimated corpse lunged for his throat, its jaws slavering at the prospect of fresh blood.

In that moment, Bishop Ken Francis' faith broke.

His congregation had saved him, a woman pulling him back. The corpse stumbled and fell face down and the people set upon it like a mob, stomping on it, breaking bones and when the collective fury finally dried out the dead man was little more than a collection of shattered bones and pulped organs in a fleshy sack. They had dumped the corpse out the cathedral window and left it to rot.

After that day the mood became gradually more and more sullen. There were no more hymns – they only seemed to draw the attention of the dead outside. There was no more sharing of food and water – supplies had run too low. The sense of community withered and died with Ken Francis' faith and his seclusion in the Chapter House.

That had been more than five months ago.

A fragile knock sounded at the door to the Chapter House. Francis stroked his thick, greying beard and extricated himself from his sleeping bag, wincing at his stiff limbs which protested at even the slightest movements nowadays.

'I'm coming,' he said, his voice soft and croaky from disuse. The visitor must not have heard him because the knocking came, slightly more frantic than before.

He opened the door and found young Oliver Gascarth looking up at him. The poor child was fifteen years old and was rake thin from malnutrition.

'Good day Bishop–' he began.

'Please, Oliver. I'm no longer a Bishop.' Francis tried to give the boy the kindest smile he could muster, 'But tell me what troubles you anyway, my dear child?'

'It's that Mister Rogan Bish– Mister Francis… he's speaking again.'

Francis suppressed an exasperated sigh. Thomas Rogan, formerly a marginally slender accountant with a voice like rumbling thunder had found his way to the cathedral a little more than a month ago and in the weeks since he'd had several visitors come to him expressing worry at Rogan's activities, most of which involved his public speeches. Francis saw little reason to step in. He'd been to one purely to see what the worrying was about. Yes there was some moderately extreme content (clearly the man had an issue with the more well off members of society) but it had appeared to take everyone's mind off how miserably droll their everyday lives were nowadays.

'Oliver, Thomas Rogan is simply trying to make everyone's time here more bearable. I know some of what he says is… strange but it's nothing but harmless talk.'

'But he's–' Oliver began.

'Oliver.' Francis intoned, more harshly than he'd intended. He sighed and ran a hand through his long hair streaked with silver lines.

'I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. But really, I'm sure there is nothing to be worried about.'

Oliver appeared less than convinced but didn't press further. Instead he mumbled something under his breath and said his goodbyes before turning and leaving. Francis didn't watch him go, he shut the door and found his way back to his sleeping bag, curled up into a foetal ball, and tried to sleep it all away.

The next day he received another visitor, surprise, surprise it was about Thomas Rogan again, so was the one after that, and the one after that. Each expressed worries that Rogan was becoming unhinged, or that he was always unhinged and it was just now coming to the fore. These visitors informed Francis that he was almost doomsaying, claiming that a new order was coming. They told him that they thought Rogan was trying to establish himself as the head of whatever this 'new order' was.

Francis no longer believed, and hadn't really set foot out of the Chapter House since he'd heard one of Rogan's earlier oratorical sessions, but, faith or no, he would be forever damned if he let any calamity come to the people eking out an existence in this once hallowed place. As he left the Chapter House on the fourth day since Oliver's visit, a sudden commotion from the cathedral interior almost made his heart stop.

As quick as his creaking limbs could carry him, Francis rushed to the aisles, where he found…

Hundreds of people stood around the altar, staring at the figure standing before it…

And the boy who lay across it.

With a sudden chill Francis realised that it was young Oliver Gascarth who was laid across the altar, eyes closed, blood dripping from a wound to his temple. Thomas Rogan stood to the side of the altar, his greasy, unwashed brown hair slack across his head and his facial expression almost one of euphoria.

_Where are Oliver's parents? Surely they would not allow this._

Scanning the crowd as he approached, Francis had a creeping, uneasy feeling that Oliver's mother and father were no longer in the cathedral, and perhaps hadn't been for some time. Thomas Rogan took a deep breath as if drinking the atmosphere in. The people stared at him. Not one of them took a step towards Rogan in order to stop whatever madness had taken hold. That in itself worried Francis deeply.

'Rogan!' he shouted, his voice was a wheeze, unused to speaking after so long in isolation, let alone shouting.

Thomas Rogan opened his eyes and inclined his head towards Francis, twitching an eyebrow and regarding him as one might regard an insect they find mildly interesting.

'Ah, our Bishop graces us with his presence. I confess I had momentarily forgotten you still inhabited this place with us.'

A slight against him and his absence, which stung, but Francis was not proud enough not to feel a pang of guilt stab at him. He made a mistake when he withdrew. He was beginning to see that now. He should have held a more visible presence when Rogan had arrived. But then, how could he possibly have known that Rogan would instigate what was looking more and more like a pagan sacrifice?

No, Francis shook his head, even despite all that, he had known at the time that the people had looked to him to be their support, and he had failed. This was all on him. Francis resolved silently to make amends with everyone, but only once this madness had ceased.

'What is going on here Rogan?' he asked, almost wincing at how pathetic his voice sounded.

Rogan blinked and looked around, as if just realising his position. It was all a display, Francis knew that for a fact.

'Why Bishop, we are making an offering.' He said, as if it explained everything. Chillingly, Francis knew that it might well do.

'An offering to what Rogan? Why is that boy up there on the altar?' Francis drew steadily closer to the altar, passing through the sea of people, who parted to allow him passage but made no move aside from the continued staring. It was beginning to unnerve him. What the _hell _had Rogan said to these people that they would not act against this?

'An offering to our God.' Rogan answered. 'This boy here is the offering.' He explained as if it were obvious.

Francis felt his blood turn to ice water in his veins.

'God takes or wants nothing to do with rituals such as these Rogan.'

Rogan flickered his flecked, hazel eyes down at Oliver's prone form, who was beginning to stir, and then looked back to Francis. A strange smile spread across his face, and in the dim candlelight it made him look positively demonic.

'No,' Rogan murmured, 'You're right… he doesn't.'

In a blur of movement he produced a switchblade from a pocket and plunged it into Oliver's chest. The boy gasped at the sudden pain and gawked almost comically at the blade stuck in his chest. Blood streamed from the wound and Francis felt something in him snap as Oliver reached his scrawny, shaking hands up to the mortal wound before Rogan twisted the blade and tore open the suffering boy's torso. Blood flowed from the gaping wound, slaking the altar in crimson fluid.

Francis made an anguished bellow and charged for Rogan, spittle flying from his lips as he reached for the man – no, the _devil _who had _sacrificed _an innocent child. He got to the foot of the altar before hands grasped him and cast him roughly to the ground. He felt something in his body give and he gasped in agony. Rage overtook him and he fought through the pain to fight back to his feet but a foot planted itself on his chest and forced him back to the stone floor.

Rogan stood above him, his right arm slick with gore and his eyes alight with devilish delight.

'You see old man, in the last week I had a… a revelation.' He said as he played with the blade in one hand, slowly lowering himself to Francis' prone form.

'You see, when all this started. When the dead began crawling out from their graves and monsters started to prowl the streets, I asked myself first 'Why in the world couldn't we stop this?' and then, much later, when… when something that had been my wife devoured my newborn daughter before my very eyes I asked myself 'How could God allow this?'' The delight gave way, and in its place Francis saw pure, naked insanity.

'And then, in the last week I realised it – God did not exist.' He pointed with the switchblade at Francis' throat as he opened his mouth to utter an expletive, 'Oh no, no, no Bishop Francis I don't mean to imply that he never existed in the first place. What I mean… is that he died. He was killed; eaten in fact. The same way my daughter was. And He… was replaced by _He._

'And who is _He _I hear you ask? He is all around us. People cried his name when the walking dead rose and began to feast on the flesh of the innocent,' with a sudden movement Rogan drew the blade violently across his own face, ripping open the skin of his forehead, spattering Francis' face with his blood.

'People cried his name when the beasts came to hunt the survivors in the bombed out craters of their own homes,' another slash across his cheek. He was smiling now, as if the pain amused him.

'People know him as something primordial, a destroyer. He was always there but he is a patient God. He bides his time for He knows His time will be and it will be as He likes it.' Another slash, this one tore his left eye in half. Francis winced, how did he not cry out?

'Slow,' another vicious cut.

'Cruel,' another.

'Bloody,' this one peeled his lower lip from his face, exposing bloody, smiling teeth and gums.

'His name is _Doom!_'he screamed with shrill delight, plunging the blade into Francis' abdomen. The ageing Bishop drew a shaky breath, unable to so much as cry out in pain. As he rolled in pain beneath Rogan who restrained him, he caught a glimpse of the crowd surrounding the pair.

Their eyes were dead.

Just like the plague victims, or, as Rogan suggested, the walking dead.

He didn't know how long they had been like this, but somewhere in the last week they had given up their last vestiges of normalcy. Rogan had promised them a purpose, or a life, or something else and by that point they no longer cared exactly what this promise was just as long as it broke the soul-crushing monotony of surviving in the cold, stony cathedral.

The full weight of Bishop Ken Francis' failure broke him utterly as Rogan began to stab, and stab, and stab, and he howled into the air; a chilling melody of sadness, frustration and hopelessness that lingered long after he passed from that cruel, cruel world.

**-X-**

Thomas Rogan stared at the mutilated body of the ex-Bishop. His blood had spread into a pool and already he felt his patron begin to tire of his slaughter of the disbeliever. He raised a hand and ran it across his ruined face. He paused a moment, feeling the burning gashes lining his features before turning to the dead-eyed crowd.

'Well…' he said through his torn mouth, 'I think I rather overdid things there didn't I?'

No one laughed. He had not expected anyone to, nor did he wish for them to. Death and violence, while necessary, were hardly the kind of things to joke about.

'Rest assured brothers and sisters I did not lie to you,' he said, raising his arms above his shoulders as if welcoming old friends, 'The Young God speaks to me and he is most happy with the offerings.'

He saw some shoulders drop a fraction in relief. He'd need to mark the faces of those ones, he mused silently.

'But He is a fickle lord, and while He is patient his attention span does not quite match that of his predecessor. We will need more and more extravagant and imaginative methods of catching His attention, and let me tell you now that his attention is a boon worth even the most tedious of carnages. In time brothers and sisters this heathen place will become but the first of many to worship the harbinger of death, and in due course the offerings we will give shall pile all the way to the sky itself! Then… and _only _then my friends, will the possibility of sating his hunger be within sight. And when his hunger abates… oh the blessings they will fall and we shall reap them well!_'_

He staggered, feeling momentarily weak as the horrific wounds he had inflicted on himself as well as the loss of blood caught up to him. A hand reached out to steady him but he waved it off and forced himself to stand tall.

'Doom watches friends,' he said, a bloody smile on his face, 'And we are His tools. No… not mere tools, but His Children.'

**-X-**

**As always, read and review. C&C is welcome and appreciated.**

**See you next time.**


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